


If There's a Future, We Want It (Now)

by AudeTheThird



Series: If There's a Future [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 1940s fic, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Darcy Lewis & Bucky Barnes friendship, Darcy is a badass superhero in the making, Darcy is super clever with machines and tinkering and science, F/M, Howard Stark is awesome, I promise, Peggy is a badass, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Build, Steve and Bucky Bros, This is all gonna work out just fine, but boys?, do NOT make a lick of sense, finished fic, long fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 70,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2521103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudeTheThird/pseuds/AudeTheThird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis was born in the early 1900's, and winds up living in a dingy apartment complex above these two fellas. </p>
<p>The rest, as they say, is history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve was beginning to regret moving in with Bucky more and more. The shared help was nice, the company was better, and having a little money after the whole month had passed served for things he couldn't otherwise have.

But the three flights of stairs between the ground floor and their little apartment, that was a problem. And having just dropped all the groceries between sweaty, shaking hands, that didn't help.

There was the dull, heavy thud of boot on tile, and he heard someone make an excited noise, swoop down and pick up something from the floor. Steve tried to gather things as quickly as possible before the booted person rounded the corner, picking up things as he went.

Before Steve could say anything he looked up - she, looked up, because no man's features were ever so delicious. She had a little nose, and full pink cheeks, with blue eyes set by impossibly dark, long lashes. She was in some kind of tinsmith gear, smudged in grease and oil and soot, with high waist grey trousers tucked into her boots, long sleeved shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal a pronounced collarbone, a full bust, and yet more dark smudges.

"Bad day?" she said, and a bright grin cracked from behind all the muck.

"It's shaping up that way." he wheezed, and picked himself up off the floor.

"Well, good news is I wasn't gonna take a bite outta anything until I got home." she went up the final few stairs, tipped the wares into his paper bag. "Bad news is, I'm off nine hours from the shop and my hands are probably ten kinds of nasty. Sorry."

"No, no, it's not a problem." he said, and hugged the bag to his chest on one side, trying to hike up his backpack on the other. The bag tipped, but her hand came out to catch whatever fell out, whip quick, using her elbow to balance it back against his chest. "Thanks. Again."

"That's okay." Her hair was black - or that could've been grease, he wasn't sure - but it was in flyaways mostly tucked under her cap. He guessed from the tail at the back it was long. "You live around here?"

"Just there." he nodded towards the door to his apartment, 3F, and swallowed back a mouthful of heavy breathing. She wasn't breathing nearly half as hard, it wasn't fair.

"I'll give you a hand then." she looked back at the stairwell. "Them's a lot of stairs."

"Yeah." he exhaled a laugh that was more cough than anything, but if she noticed, she didn't comment. He managed to open the door without dropping anything, nearly succeeding when he shoved the squeaky hinge with his hip and shoulder. She handed him the things without breaching the doorway, eyes focused on the door.

"Huh." she said, and tapped them, reaching into her pocket to draw out a screwdriver. In ten seconds, she was done, and tested the door by swinging it open and shut. It made less noise, certainly, but it still didn't quite line up with the frame. "Say, if you wanted this fixed, I've got some time to kill."

She didn't appear any kind of impolite, just brash, straight forward. Steve was reminded a lot of Bucky. With the grin and the dark hair, it was almost like looking at Bucky's little sister.

"If you fix my door," he said (between panting, because he was still a little breathless after three flights of stairs,) "I'm going to have to insist on making you a cup of tea."

The grin was even brighter, when she turned it back to him, digging around in the belt that hugged her hips.

"Well, I won't say no to that. I ran out a couple days ago and haven't had the chance to go get my own."

"Why's that?"

"Work. Started off a few of the boys got real sick, one moved states for better work, then another has just got herself pregnant and resigned yesterday." she pulled out a hammer, chisel, screwdriver, and unscrewed the rest of the hinge with the rest of the tools shoved in the front of her overalls, before swapping them and knocking the door loose from the hinge. It took her a few minutes to catch the door and lay it out, bring a ruler out of her back pocket to get an idea of how far off it should sit.

Steve boiled the kettle, watching her while he got the only two matching cups they owned out of the cupboard.

"It's a fairly busy business, what with the war. Mind, I like making things, I'm -" she grunted upon lifting the door, but shoved her boot under the jam and tilted it without listening to him offering his help. "-pretty good with my hands, my daddy was in woodwork and he thought I should at least be able to handle a few things 'fore he left. He's in the 107th, somewhere, fightin' Nazis, sends me home a coupla things he makes along the way, sometimes."

"Do you need help?" he said weakly.

"Nah. Thanks, but -" she whacked it into place, and screwed the initial hinges to the frame, before the door. "-see, I get along pretty swell with the rest of the boys and there ain't many girls, cuz of the heavy lifting and the bullet making and - well, it ain't pretty work, but I mean, everything helps, right?"

"Right." he said, and inwardly deflated, because he couldn't help the war effort, but she could.

She lifted the thing on the top of her boot, then leveled it out, and fixed it, stepping back a minute, to see if it'd work. When she swung it, there was no painful, hair raising shriek. When she stepped into the apartment and closed it, it clicked into the lock neatly.

"Wow." Steve said. "That was quick."

"Pretty simple, when you got a handybelt full of things it needs." she eyed the chain and lock, which now wouldn't reach, as it had been set while the door had been terrifyingly off center. She stretched out the chain as far as it would go, but it couldn't quite fit the groove of the lock. "Aw, hell. I can get that."

Steve thought she might be selectively deaf, because she didn't listen when he said he could do it, just made about prying the lock from the wall and fixing it back into place before he'd even made the tea.

"There." she tugged on the lock to make sure it was secure, then opened the door, only to see Bucky standing there with his hand out for the handle.

"Company, Steve?" he cocked both eyebrows, gave her a long once over.

"She fixed our door." Steve said in his defense. "This is my roommate Bucky. Bucky, this is, uh-... Sorry, I don't know your name."

"Oh yeah. Darcy." she stuck out her hand to Bucky, who was similarly smudged and grotty, only his was more saw dust and sweat than oil or grease. He had a fine sand in his hair, making it appear lighter, all pushed back from his face but a wayward lock that hung over his brow. "Friends call me Moxie."

"Moxie, huh?" Bucky's grin matched hers. "Well, sure is nice to meet you. I'm Bucky. That's Steve."

"Hi." he said, and lifted the sugar bag, nearly empty. "How many?"

"None, thanks." she said, gratefully stepping back into the apartment. She stuck her hand out to Steve too. "Darcy, Moxie, whatever you like."

"Steve." he said, and found her hand rough, the grip careful against his own. He didn't know many dames who weren't in retail or maybe even desk jobs to help the effort, but then again, he didn't know many dames. Her hands were warm, and he liked that. "Thanks again, for the, uh, door, Darcy. Would've got around to it at some stage."

"I've no doubt." she didn't even use the handle to the cup, just picked it up around the rim and sipped it, sighing and leaning her hip against the counter. "That's a good cup of tea, by the way."

He ducked his head.

"Thanks." he said, and wondered if his mouth had anything better to offer.

Bucky just quietly closed the door, making suggestive faces at him over her shoulder. Steve was next to mortified - it was just a favor, he hand't invited her back here with ill intentions - he hadn't actually invited her back there at  _all_.

"So you study?" she nodded to his bag, taking a big draw from her cup.

"Yeah." he turned back to making his own tea, with milk and sugar. "Buck, you wanna cup?"

"Nope, just gonna-" he stuck his head around the door, gave Steve a pointed look. "-take a nap, you know, long day. You two behave yourselves."

Steve was staring at him, wondering why he'd be so obvious, when Darcy said:

"I'll try my damnedest, but no guarantees."

Bucky just snickered and retreated to his room, the door clicking shut, because at least that one worked.

From there, Steve had a decent conversation with the girl - she seemed genuinely interested in his art degree, interested to know what kind of art he could do, be it architectural or still life, painting or drawing. Steve had a particular knack for abstract art; mostly animals doing human things, wearing clothes or sitting at an office.

She had no mind for that, but could draw up mechanical designs in a heart beat. Structure, neat lines, angles. That was something he couldn't quite get in his architecture, the elusive neatness that was dragging down his grade.

"Well, of course, you're welcome to help," she said, and Steve could feel the coil of warmth in his belly all but wilt. She thought him needy. Why wouldn't she? "I mean, I'd like to be able to draw something nice, for once, so... If you can show me how to draw something nice, I'd be glad to show you how to get those lines down on paper."

That made it better, somehow, made it feel less like help, more like a swap, and equality. He liked the sound of it, and agreed, sticking out his hand so he had an excuse to touch hers again. She drained whatever was in her cup, and made the deal, beaming at him.

"Listen, it's gettin' kinda late, I should go. I have Sunday off, if you wanna meet up?"

"Yeah, me too." he blinked. "I- have Sunday off. I'd like to meet you. If you want. For drawing."

"Yeah, of course," she didn't laugh at him, and that was nice. "I'll - probably be done my chores and errands and things by about twelve. Meet you downstairs around lunch? Maybe twelve thirty. We'll say twelve thirty, that gives us a little room to wiggle."

"Wiggle room is good." he said, and shut his eyes, shaking his head. "That - I didn't mean - I wanted to wiggle with you. Not that I wouldn't-"

"Steve." she said, and cocked her brows, smile on her mouth.

He sighed.

"Twelve thirty sounds great, I'll see you then, Darcy."

She smiled, and put her cup in the sink, before she exited with a sound tap on the hinges, just double checking.


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, they saw each other much earlier than Sunday.

She passed an alley way and heard the clap of knuckles on flesh. It startled her so much she out rightly stopped walking, head swiveling around to stare so fast her vertebrae popped.

Three men were surrounding someone in the middle, shoving them around, occasionally catching him to knock him back with a fist. She saw his face through the cracks of their stances - Steve, dwarfed between them.

With a burst of outright rage, she marched towards them. The man who last caught him heard her stomping and shoved Steve behind him, making his head hit the wall. She grit her teeth, and pushed past the other two who only then noticed her, one daring to whistle at her when they realized that she wasn't a grubby fella, just a grubby dame.

She swooped into a crouch, lifting his fringe from his eyes.

He stared back at her, slightly dazed, a trickle of blood beading and sliding over his brow. He had a swollen and cut lip, and his shirt was ripped on the seam of the shoulder. She glared hard at the men behind her, and spun as she stood, planting hands on hips.

"Hey, lady."

"Don't you 'hey lady'  _me_. Just who the hell do you think you are? So tough, the three of you onto the one of him."

There was a stunned silence, and the biggest one, standing in the middle, scoffed.

"Can the three of us be on the one of you?"

Her glare went icy cold, despite the rage boiling in her stomach.

"Honey, you couldn't handle me. Not even the three of you." she assured him flatly. "Now you turn around and you walk outta here, or you deal with me."

"Maybe that's what I wanna do." his eyes flicked to her waist, heaving chest. "Is get a handle on you."

Steve slid up the wall. She could see he'd put his fists back up, and that he was swaying.

"Mind the way you speak to a lady," he said, breathing heavy.

"Or you'll what?" one of the others mocked. "Show us a little one-two?"

"Innit this what got you in trouble in the first place?"

"Come on, punk, let's see what you got-"

"You turn your ass around," Darcy couldn't remember sending the message to her fists to swing up around her face, but they just chuckled at her. "And you walk away, while you still got legs to walk with."

There was laughter. Steve inflated self righteously beside her, fists clenching, stepping to her side, and there they were, two of them against the significantly larger, nastier trio. Then Bucky was strolling towards them, bigger, more built, and he arched a brow. Something about the tick in his jaw, maybe gave them a heads up - this guy wouldn't mess about.

"There a problem here?" he cocked his head, eyeing the trio.

The gang apparently didn't like the look of him, the arms thick in the shirt, the wide shoulders, self assured air. The biggest - the protagonist - swung aside, shrugging.

"Not at all." he mused. "Just havin' a nice little chat."

Darcy snorted, reaching back to grab hold of Steve's suspenders.

"C'mon." she said out the corner of her mouth, and lead him away. Bucky stepped beside her, continuing to stare over his shoulder at the three.

"'Tween the three of us," he said in a lazy drawl, not bothering with volume control. "They didn't have a chance."

They were on their way away before she heard the insinuation that she'd be 'between' the two of them later that evening. She shot a hand out to stop Bucky from turning, and squeezed Steve's fingers.

"Don't even worry about it. I've gotta thick skin." she murmured.

Then they went and did it.

If there was one thing Darcy couldn't stand, it was spitting. And the big one, chewing tobacco, lobbed a thick string of brown sludge onto the shoulder of her shirt. She stopped walking. Her eye twitched.

"Hold this." she said, unbuckling her handybelt and handing it to Steve.

She spun, marched back, and before they could stop laughing, she cocked her fist back and cracked the big one right in the nose. It broke under the pressure, and his whole head tipped back, making him fall flat on his rear end.

His buddy was apparently waiting for a fight, but she knocked his fist aside and drove her left hand up into his solar plexus, making him double up. Her elbow came down hard on the back of his head and he dropped like a sack of bricks.

When she turned, the fear of a woman well scorned was in the third, and he held his hands up.

"I didn't do it." he pointed to the man who was holding his bloodied face on the ground. "He did."

"Get outta my sight." she pointed toward the mouth of the alley, and he made quick work getting out of there. "And get some new friends!"

With hand on her hips, she returned her attention back down on the two felled men.

"Now. What have we learned about spitting on people?"

There was swearing, then the rather satisfying: "You broke my goddamn nose!"

"You're goddamn lucky I didn't go ahead and break your _jaw_. My daddy didn't raise no pretty flower to be spat on." she toed him with her shoe. "What did you learn about spitting on people?"

"Not t' do it?" the other one said.

"Are you gonna do it again?"

"No." the guy on the floor said. The one with the broken nose, the one who'd actually spit on her, she assumed, didn't say a word.

"I ain't above stomping on you while you're down. I'll take your 'pology kickin' and screamin' if I have to."

"Sorry." he grunted, and rolled over. "Fer spittin' on you."

"So you should be." she eyed the dark shadow on her shoulder out the corner of her eye. "And tobacco is a filthy habit." she said, and turned again, going back to the boys at the mouth of the alley.

"That was one of the best things I ever seen, dollface." Bucky said, and cracked a naughty grin.

She smiled only slightly.

"I would say thank you if I didn't feel like such a monster about it."

"You shouldn't." he mused, and inclined his head to the other guy. "They're the monsters here."

"Thank you, for doing that." Steve said, and handed back her handybelt. "You didn't have to. I had it under control."

"I know you did. It's more my... total lack of proper common sense. I see three guys beating up someone and I stick my nose in it."

"Huh. That sounds familiar." Bucky mused, and reached clear over her head to scruff Steve's hair.

"Quit." he said, smiling slightly, leaning away from it.

The blood had been smudged around his mouth, like he'd tried to hide it, but the blossoming bruise on his forehead and the swollen lip denoted his abuses regardless.

"Y' look like hell." she said with a half smile.

"Well, I, uh... Seen better days." he looked down. God, his eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue. With out much thought, she reached into her back pocket for her hanky and motioned to his hairline, offering it to him. He looked at her with wide eyes.

"You don't gotta do that." he said. "I'll get blood on it."

"That's kinda the point." she smiled slightly, and when he didn't resist, lifted it herself and pressed it over the wound. "Why were you fighting with them, anyhow?"

He flushed, held the hanky to his skull. She put her belt back on, glaring into the alley when the men got to their feet with a few choice words.

"I-... They said some pretty off-color things to a lady in the library, is all."

"Friend of yours?"

"N-...No."

She shook her head.

"And she just walked off and let you get a busted face for it?"

He colored even redder.

"I guess."

"Huh." she ducked to see his eyes, smiling slightly when they lifted up to her face. "Well, if you see her, say so, and I'll sort her out too."

"I- I couldn't-"

"I'm teasin'." she smiled more widely on his face, looked down at her knuckles, red and swelling. "Jeeze, been a while since I knocked a fella on his rear. Forgot it smarts."

"Hang around, you'll get used to it." Bucky mused. "We got a cert-i-fied hero in my boy Steve."

"No kidding." she turned to him. "So. How's about we go home, lick our wounds and I'll bring my whiskey bottle down to your place?"

"Sure. Got somethin' t' mix it with?" he motioned vaguely to their apartment building and they set off walking, Steve still holding the cloth to his skull, head down.

"Nope." she shrugged her shoulder.

"What's a lady doin' out this time o' night on Wednesday, huh?" Bucky said, casting her a side wards glance. "S'nearly eight."

"Usually I finish up at six, but I got let out a bit late, on counta I been catchin' up my factory on basic mechanics. Found a buncha things that weren't sittin' right and had to go through stock 'n' make sure it was all good." she said, quite proud. "Not to mention, they got some pretty big wig comin' down in a week or two and they're pretty jazzed about it, want everythin' to be perfect, so alotta us get kept later and later, so they can fix up plans and get us shiny and what have you."

"Ain't you got anyone to walk with?" Bucky shrugged. "Thought maybe cuz the metal work's so close, you might know somebodies to walk with you, might live in the area."

"Yeah, sometimes I do. Most times. But they're workin' back even later'n me, and I wasn't gonna hang around for 'em, was I?" she grinned brightly up at the guy, then back down to Steve. "So, you were in the library, huh?"

"Mm." he nodded, keeping his eyes on the concrete in front of him.

"Studying?"

"Yeah." he glanced at her then. "Tryna get a start on architecture."

"Ah, I see how it is." she said with a nudge of his shoulder with hers. "You gonna get a head start on me and use all fancy words for Sunday, aren't you?"

"No, I was uh, actually -" he had been looking up flower drawing. But from what she said in the alley, she seemed to have a thing against flowers. "- just uh, sketching out some homework. It's quiet there, so I get a lot done."

"I see." she said, and jogged up the stairs, bringing out her keys to let them all in. "Alright. I'm gettin' outta this mess, be down in five."

"With booze." Bucky reminded her, and Steve elbowed him in the ribs.

She just laughed, already up half the first flight.

"Yeah, with booze, ya mooch."

* * *

She came down in ten minutes, having stood under the weak pressure in her shower for longer than she expected, washing grease out of her hair and making half an effort to scrub it dry before pulling on a long sleeved button up and a pair of high riding trousers too many inches too wide in the thigh and stomach - she'd been meaning to restock her cupboards, but hadn't had the time, or the money.

What she did have in healthy supply was her booze. Her rhythm usually went get up, go work, eat lunch, go work, come home, wind down with whiskey and her trusty rusty wireless, and find sleep in a squeaky bed.

She knocked at the door and waited for Steve to open it, inspecting his hairline when he did.

"Feel better?" she said.

"A little." he confirmed.

She held up the bottle with a grin that promised trouble.

"That's gonna change."

He smiled and stepped aside, inviting her in.

"Door's been good." he ventured, and she grinned over her shoulder, stepping into the lounge area. "No trouble at all."

"Good. Glasses?"

"Sure." Steve covered his mouth with the crook of his arm and coughed into it, battling through to get three glasses in one hand. She took one from him and put it on the counter, pouring a slug before pushing it at him.

He took the drink, swallowed it, winced at the burn, but his coughing died down, slightly.

"Thanks," he said, and pulled her hanky from his front pocket, holding that out to her too. The blood on it was merely pink, already stained most of the fabric it had touched. "For, that, too."

"Don't worry about it." she took the slightly damp cloth back, shoving it into her back pocket, before tucking her hair behind her ears. "Lookin' forward to Sunday?"

"Yeah." he said, and accepted the next drink she poured him with a small 'thanks'. "Do you, uh, have anything you wanna draw in particular?"

"Mm. Nah. Just somethin' pretty might be nice." she said easily, and took a drag of her booze, feeling the burn all the way down to her stomach. The fact that she was going on a single sandwich from twelve o'clock meant nothing to her shriveled stomach, taking what it could get.

She looked back at Steve, mouth open to say something, but stopped. It just hit her; he had a strangely pretty face, for a man built so slightly. An underlying attractiveness in his full mouth, hopeful eyes, the high cheekbones. The fact that she was an obscenely lonely girl and had no business messing about with the nice guy from downstairs didn't even register in her brain.

She looked at him and saw a man who'd lived his whole life in a body not meant for him, and didn't she know it.

Bucky was whistling, completely merry, when he strolled into the room and ruined the silence.

"Started without me, did ya?"

"Hey, my whiskey."

"My glass."

" _My_  glass." Steve corrected. "Woulda been drinkin' outta coffee cups had this guy got his way."

"Psh. My mother gave him the idea."

"Your mother's a smart woman." Darcy nodded sagely, sipping her drink. "Whiskey's better in glass."

"Hear hear." Bucky said, and clinked their rims together.

"Uh, Buck," Steve said, looking under his arm at the door behind her. "The bathroom?"

"Aw, hell. Hang on." he said, and jogged to the small room, bundling the clothes into his arms. He was in a loose white shirt, thin enough that she could see his undershirt beneath it. His suspenders pulled tight but didn't snap off, surprisingly, and his woolen trousers looked decidedly snug across his rear.

She politely - difficultly - averted her eyes to the school bag Steve had set down, which some papers had spilled out of.

"Mind if I look?" she said, and looked at the artist himself, who was flushing.

"Uhm..." he took the bag, settling his glass down, before sorting through. He eventually lifted a couple out for her to gaze at, as Bucky skipped through the kitchen with his pile of clothes, dumping them in his room, kicking the mess out of his way with his boot.

"Well, hell." she said, her fingers hovering over the images. "How'd you do that?"

"Pencil. And practice." he shrugged, and turned his head to cough into his shoulder coughing harder and harder the longer he went. "And patience." he gasped, eyes watering.

"Anything we can do about that cough?" she asked him mildly, but he just shook his head, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"Ignore it. It'll go away when I warm up."

She might be able to ignore the cough, but the mark on his skull was a concern.

"D'you mind if I take a look at that?"

"Oh, it'll be fine." he said, and tried to smile. She noticed a shiny blue mark on his cheekbone where there hadn't been one earlier, still developing. "I'll be okay."

"I bet you will." she said, and came at him, lifting his flop of fringe to inspect the wound. She tugged the hanky out of her back pocket, took some of the ice from the glass she'd been drinking out of and put it into the already bloody hanky. She folded it into a pouch she pressed against his head. "I shoulda kicked more sense into him."

"Probably." Bucky said, sipping his drink, leaning his hip against the counter.

Steve leaned into the cold, wincing slightly.

"Don't say that." he sighed. "You did enough. It's okay."

"It mighta been enough, but it ain't okay." she said, a little lowly, to voice the seriousness of her concerns. "God strike me down if it's okay to mess up a fella for nothin'. Shoulda blacked his eye while I was there."

Steve swallowed, and she realized she was leaning quite close to him. It'd been a while since she drank in company. She forgot she was the hands-on type, and made a dissatisfied noise, lifting his hand by the wrist to brace the ice by himself.

"So," Bucky mused, possibly to break tension. "Are you new to the Brooklyn area?"

"Relatively." she swigged her drink. "I come from a farm down South, so it's a bit different, but I been here long 'nuff to pick up the accent, and boy does it get under my mama's skin."

"Oh, farm girl. That explains the decent right hook you got there." Bucky grinned. "City girls don't throw fists like country girls."

"You know it." she grinned. "Lemme tell you. I was shootin' at rabbits and foxes when I was ten, and I got six older brothers to keep me up on how to throw my punches, too."

Bucky whistled.

"That's a lotta family."

"Sure is." she ducked her eyes. "They're all at war, anyhow. No one's missin' or whatever, they're all fightin' away. Got four in the same regimen, which is better, somehow. I know they'll be fine."

She shrugged her shoulder.

"And your daddy?" Bucky prodded.

"He's fightin' too." she nodded, lifted her drink at him. "But that's country boys for you. They're so desperate to get out of hay and chickens they go to war for it."

"I'm sure it's more than that." Steve said gently. "And four in the same platoon, that's gotta mean they'll look after each other."

"You'd think so." she said, and drained her glass, shamelessly picking up the bottle and pouring herself more. She didn't ask, just topped up both the boy's glasses. "How's your head, Steve?"

"Better. Thanks." he said, and offered a smile that was little more than a flinch.

They chatted mildly - Bucky told her that he'd been friends with Steve nearly their whole lives, ever since they were six and seven years old, they'd been friends. Steve spent many night on the floor in Bucky's lounge area, and the many pranks that happened.

After an hour, Steve's stomach growled and she laughed, pretty buzzed at that point. Bucky wasn't too far behind, but he tried to sober up so he could make some dinner for them, as it was his turn. They invited her to stay but she couldn't - wouldn't - and made sure that Steve really did feel better before she ran into the door frame on her way out.

"Sonofa-!" she braced her shoulder with her hand.

Steve put his hand gently on the underside of her forearm. He'd stopped drinking at some point earlier than she or Bucky, color high in his cheeks and tipping his ears.

"Let me help you up the stairs," he said, carefully, and she put her arm around his shoulders.

"But who's gonna look after Bucky and the boilin' beans?"

"He can handle it. Couldn't think of anything worse if you took a tumble down the stairs." he said it quite honestly, but she still giggled. "You could smash that bottle."

"That's worse. Jesus, Steve, priorities." she said with a serious inflection, then ducked her head and laughed some more. "See you 'round, Buck."

"Ciao!" he hollered back.

The way up was  _fun_. Steve kept a hold of her hand around his neck and she went slow enough that the stress of the stairs didn't aggravate his asthma. She managed to dig out her keys and open her door, just as the nosy old bat from down the hall opened her door with her purple purse clutched to her chest.

She saw Darcy, hanging all over Steve, quite drunk, the bottle in her hand, and Steve half in her apartment. He understood it could look a little wrong, a little dirty, like he'd got her drunk just to take her back to her room.

"My sweetheart," she said, and held his face in her hand, turning his eyes away from the woman to her. "Takin' such good care of me. Now, you just take this bottle and get on home."

"Sure, uh, baby...doll." he said, and barely startled when she kissed his cheek. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, sugar." she must've been drunk, because she kissed him again, avoiding all the sore panes of his face, and lingered with her nose touching his cheekbone.

"Alright, honey." he had no idea how the endearments kept coming. "You get into bed and sleep it off."

"Sure, darlin'." the country drawl was particularly prominent. "See you about?"

"You got it."

She must've been  _very drunk_ , because she kissed his face  _again_.

"G'night, Stevie."

"Night, Darcy."


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay." Steve said, setting out a sketchbook for her to try. "So, I think the trick is with drawing things - well, there's two tricks. First, knowin' what you draw makes your job a lot easier. So if you know how somethin' looks, half the work is done."

"Alright." Darcy nodded, looking intently at the pictures he had out of a bowl of fruit. He figured, it was one of his first classes, drawing food, so why not start there? "Know what I'm drawin'. Got it."

"Then, uh, things like stippling or cross hatching aren't gonna mean much to you, but uh... Just, try and think ahead of where you're gonna put what. No point in drawing that whole apple, cuz there's a coupla grapes on top and a banana hiding half at the bottom, see?"

"Got that." she nodded, ever studious, watching where his fingers skimmed over the page. "So, uh, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

Their heads were very close together. She thought his eyes flicked to her mouth, and he could've sworn she swallowed a little. He didn't know what to do. She'd kissed him when she was drunk, when there was a lady watching them to make sure nothing funny went on, but she was drunk and, now she was looking at his mouth and, he didn't know what to do.

"What's a cross hatch?"

He smiled.

That was something he knew.

"Here, like this." He drew a few shades on the paper, implementing various techniques. "They're just some things people use to build shadow, or a whole image. You can use lines to do the shaping, outlines, but these are what makes for good texture."

"And that makes the pictures look realer?"

"Yeah." he said brightly, and dragged across one of his art books, showing her in color instead of his quick greylead. "See, here? That's stippled, the whole lot of it."

"That's just tiny dots?"

"Yeah." he looked up, trying to gauge her tone. She brushed her fingers across the picture, tilting her head. "What are you thinking?" he said, without meaning to.

"I'm thinking... I'd really like to be able to make somethin' so pretty." she sounded so put out. "But all I'm good for is bashing things with a hammer, really."

"I don't think that's true." he said, so eager to see her smile back on her face that he actually tipped his skull into her line of vision, making her crack a bright grin when he wedged between her and the page. "I think you're swell."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Was that... A blush, on her cheeks? He'd never seen her flustered, never seen her out of sorts. That could be because he'd only ever met her twice in the last week, but he could've never imagined her as anything but tough-as-nails, and fulla the moxie she was nick named after.

"Steve?" she said, and did she or didn't she, just look at his mouth?

"Yeah?" he wasn't nearly panting. He wasn't. It wasn't like his heart was hammering against his ribs like it was actively trying to jump up out of his throat and flop on the artbook.

There was a long second. Then:

"Should I maybe start drawing?"

"Oh. Sure." he sat back. Way back. Tried not to inhale the clean smell of her hair.

She had a touch of perfume on, so subtle that he could smell it without it aggravating his allergies. He wondered if she'd done it on purpose, if she already knew him that well.

He didn't really guide her much - she was hunched over the desk, drawing lines carefully, stopping at intersections between fruit and getting most of the forethought right. He had to scrub out a few lines that wouldn't make sense, but she concurred, understanding when he explained.

When she tried to show him how to draw buildings, well, he was genuinely surprised. A lot of the comments on his paperwork pertained to the fact that his buildings didn't make any sense, but never mentioned how that was.

"See, you gotta start with your structure. The bones. Like a person, you know?"

"I guess."

"Don't guess, you gotta." she grinned, cheeky. "If your foundation ain't right, the finished product's gonna come topplin' down or somethin' of the like. When you think about buildin' things, you gotta start with materials and beams. So, just say we're usin' steel." she listed a series of mathematical facts and then drew some quick lines.

"I don't understand." he said, slowly, feeling a burn in his face.

"It just means that uh, it can only hold so much weight. Like, with a structurally sound base, even if it was reinforced, there's a factor in of the plaster and the wood, all the other stuff that's gotta go in before people. Right? So, I can see you're drawin' buildings with a hundred floors. Bring it back a little. Start with three or four. Little ain't always useless. Take a look at me."

"You're not useless. You're far from useless." he said, vehemently, and then ducked his eyes down to the drawing. What he wanted to say was: 'Now, you take a look at me'.

"Eh. S'far as housewifery goes, I'm pretty..." she waved her hands at the trousers hanging over her work boots, the collared shirt rucked up at the sleeves. And he wanted his tongue to stay put, goddammit, but she had the most inhuman ability to make it speak on his behalf.

"I think it's swell, you can do stuff 'round the house. I wouldn't mind." he muttered, and drew a few lines, feeling the weight of her stare on his head. He wished he was made of steel to bare it.

"You'd..." he heard her swallow, glanced up to her face to see that she was looking at him with furrowed brow, small frown. He hated that she wasn't smiling at him.

"Darcy?"

She blinked, arched both brows.

"You wanna go get some lunch?"

"Yeah. I do."

Then the smile was back and everything was better.

So much better.


	4. Chapter 4

They saw each other again come Wednesday night, passing on the stairs. Bucky and Steve were on their way out to meet up with some of their friends at a little dancing joint down the road, probably on the fly for some pretty dames.

Neither fella even recognized her; she was dolled up, red mouth painted slick, hair pulled up in neat rolls and in a perfect wave all the way down her back. She was in a smart little skirt and shirt that came in at the waist, with a little pullover that hid her arms.

"Hi Steve, Bucky." she said mildly.

"Hiya, gorgeous." Bucky said, tossing the comment over his shoulder. She smiled, and waited for them to stop, turn around, and blink at her stupidly until the face matched the name.

" _Darcy_?" Steve said, and stared at her face.

"Moxie?" Bucky's once over hit her at the chest, the waist, the shapely legs propped up by the heels. "Hope you don't mind me sayin', but hot _damn_."

"Don't mind at all. Spent an hour tryin' to fit the part." her mouth was smiling, but Steve could see under her eyes were smudged, slightly, under the lashes. "Turns out I should've just stayed home."

"Why?" Steve said, frowning. "Someone put hands on you?"

"I wish." she scoffed. "Mighta had a chance to black his eye and get my own. But no. He didn't show."

"Oh, babydoll." Bucky said, in his careful drawl. "Well, you look too damn good to go upstairs and hide in your place. Me 'n' Steve are going out dancin' with a couple fellas from my work. Wanna come?"

Steve wanted to chastise Bucky. He really did. For what, he didn't know - Bucky was just being friendly, but Darcy looked so put out. He wanted to suggest that Bucky go on without them - he'd get outta his suit and she could get outta her fancy dress up - not, not together! Just, out of it, comfortable like, into something else. And they could... Listen to the radio, or have a drink.

But before his struck dumb brain could catch up and tell his mouth what to say, Bucky spoke up.

"We'll look after you, course." Bucky said, cracking a grin. "C'mon. Coupla dances and we'll come home."

"S'it far?" she said, her voice maybe an octave higher than her usual tone. "These shoes..." she motioned at her feet, lifting them off the floor, and damn if they didn't make her tall as Steve. He hadn't noticed before, but if he was 5'4, she must've been about 5'nothing, the shoes more than making up for it.

"Down the road." Bucky promised.

Steve was going to start protesting, because she seemed upset by her lack of a date, seemed to be really just in need of washing her face and getting out of those shoes. He wanted to suggest staying tea and the wireless on the jazz station, but he hadn't had the chance to offer, tongue tripping like it was.

"Yeah." she said, abruptly, her voice back to normal. "Yeah, why not? I bought this skirt all special and everything. Might as well get some use out of it."

"His loss, our gain." Bucky assured her, and held out his arm. She took it, but also slid her other hand through Steve's, resting it on his forearm. He braced instantly, unsure. He'd never had a girl on his arm, let alone one like Darcy.

Between the three of them, they wouldn't fit through the door, but Darcy let Bucky go through first, choosing to hold onto Steve as they went. He rationalized it was because he was smaller, and they could fit, but he didn't see Bucky offer the arm and she didn't look like she was gonna let him go, either.

"So, where do you work, Bucky?"

"I work in the woodshed up a coupla blocks. Saw things, pack the dust, you know."

"I do know, actually." she said, and sent him a grin. "I work at the shop 'round the bend, ya mooch."

"No, I never woulda picked it." he said, totally sarcastic.

"I don't run around in overalls because I like the look."

He chuckled, and she beamed.

"You know, I work with a couple boys who part time at the woodshed," she said, and brightened. "Know any that work up my way?"

"Actually, now you mention it, I think they've said somethin' about it." he said. "Huh! What're the odds."

"Same kinda business." she shrugged, rubbing her arm against Steve's shoulder. He could smell her subtle perfume, and cast his eyes down to his shoes. He did not need to fall and drag her down. "They're all in each others pockets, them big wigs."

"Yeah, no kiddin'."

"Not even a bit." she scoffed, and they entered the club.

That night was blues, and the lazy sound of a sax drifted through their senses, pitched low and warm. The smoke in the joint made Steve's asthma play up, but Bucky's boys knew the drill by then, sat next to an open window, waiting.

"Ay, Bucky!"

"Who's the pretty dame, then?"

"You watch who you call a dame, Mathew Jones, or I'll knock you on your ass." Darcy said with a snort. "I ain't no pretty lady you can drool at."

His mouth popped open. Charlie, one of the quieter friends, jumped to his feet with a big smile.

"Moxie!"

"You know it, honey." she fluttered her lashes, and the guy came up to her to give her a hug. Steve regrettably pulled away, edging toward the open window.

"Hot damn, baby! What-! What the!" Mathew got to his feet too, and rubbed both palms on his trousers before he prodded her shoulder. "You goin' with Bucky now? You lady killer, I'd never believe you 'f you hadda said anything." he shot at the taller man, who just grinned.

"Does it look like I'm goin' with Bucky, you goddamn loudmouth?" she pitched a brow. "Where's Janey?"

"She ain't comin'. Workin' tomorrow."

"So it's my job to make sure you don't get up to trouble, then?" she arched a brow, and he pulled her under one arm, giving her a quick hug.

"Naw, ruin all my fun." he teased, and let her go. "Like your hair like that, Mox."

"Don't get used to it, cuz I don't."

"Are you goin' with Steve, then?"

"Who says I'm goin' with any body?" she said, and took a seat. "I got stood up, the boys picked me up on my way back home."

"Jeeze, I'm glad they did." he took an exaggerated wiff of the air. "You even smell pretty."

She smacked his arm, rolling her eyes.

"You talk like I smell bad on the regular."

"No ma'am." they all watched as she went about smoothing her skirt down, perched on a stool, accepting Mikey's hand to steady herself. "Just prettier tonight, s'all."

"Good save." Bucky took a seat beside her, and Mathew dragged a few more chairs over to their booth.

The night, for Steve, passed as it usually did.

He sat by the window and managed to get drunk off three glasses of whatever Bucky put in front of him, sat and chatted with the guys when they weren't yelling across the table at each other. At one stage, Darcy even got up to sit with him, but a couple minutes later she had been commandeered to talk to someone on her other side.

Quite tipsy, his head spinning, he just got up when Bucky pulled him under his arm. Darcy soon bracketed him on his other side, tucking her arm around his waist.

He felt so nervous at having her hand there, so close to his bony rib cage, but even more nervous when she lifted his other arm and put it around her shoulders, holding onto his wrist. His fingers were - hovering, right above the swell of her breast. All he had to do was stretch, and he'd touch her.

So he put his hand in a fist.

They stopped several times up the stairs, Steve unable - or unwilling - to go up.

Bucky was a little bit too drunk, leaning on the banister, while Darcy, who hadn't paid for a drink all night but never went without a glass in her hand, in her heels was stumbling just as bad.

There was a close call when Steve leaned back too far and Darcy's heel slipped and Bucky had to reach across their backs and hoist them forward, which was more hilarious than they intended, despite having to break from laughter to try and hush their volume.

Trying to open the door was fun. Steve had lost the keys somewhere in his pockets and was patting them right down to the ankle, while Bucky was banging his head against the frame, trying to remember where they put the spare.

"Hang on," Darcy said, quite brightly. "I'm actually really familiar with locks, I havta make 'em sometimes."

She reached up and pulled a pin from her hair, tucking it back behind her ear. The thick brown curls swung forward anyway, regardless, and Bucky did his bit to sweep it back and brush it over her shoulder, making Darcy giggle.

"Stop, I'm con-cen-trating." She chewed off the bulbous bit at the end and jammed it into the lock, wedging the other in behind it and jiggling it around. "Jus' a second, boys, I got it."

"I swear we got a spare." Steve said, and slumped heavily against the frame next to her, sliding into a messy pile with his face dragging against the plaster. "Somewhere 'round here. Maybe down here. Hey, Darcy?"

"Hmmmm?" she looked down, pitching at the waist to see him.

He blushed, cracked a grin.

"Like your shoes." he said, and she positively beamed. "They're _real_  pretty."

"Thanks, Stevie." she said, and ran a mostly uncoordinated pet over his cheek.

"Easy you two," Bucky let go of Darcy's hair to spatula him off the wall, keeping him upright under his arm. "Wait until we get inside 'til the pettin' starts, would yas?"

Darcy lost herself to giggle-snort-hiccup laughter, then rustled in the lock, did some kind of bizarre dip and twist, and the door swung open.

Bucky shouted his laughter, helped her off of the floor from where she'd tumbled forward, and steered Steve inside. Darcy flopped on the couch, hands on her stomach, while Steve collapsed onto the couch beside her, face down. Bucky leaned over the back of her chair.

"Wanna drink?" he said mildly.

"I shouldn't." she grinned. "I already had more than I should've."

"C'mon. One drink." he said, and reached down to wipe his thumb across the smudge on her lower lip. "Least we can do."

"One." She groaned, hid her eyes behind her hand. "Regretting it already. One drink."

"Just one." he promised, and Steve heard him clinking around, opening the cupboard above where they would have a stove, if they could afford one. "Rum or brandy, babydoll?"

"Rum. Just one drink, Bucky, just one."

"One." he agreed. "Steve?"

"Mmph." he said into the cushions, barely slitting his eyes to see that Darcy had bent her knees, bringing her feet closer to her hands to fuss at the straps keeping them on her ankles. Her skirt had ridden up a few inches and he was glad he was face down, because he was heating up. The strap keeping her stockings on peeked at him while she fiddled with the buckle.

She could pick locks, but couldn't undo her shoes? He lifted his head, ready to offer his help...

"Here'y go." Bucky said, and put her glass down on the table. Steve's head dropped back down. Darcy hastened to smooth hands over her skirt, sit up slightly, hair a little fluffy at the back.

"Thanks." she said, and lifted her drink, clinking it with his. "To... a good night out."

"A good night out!" he said, and took a swig. They both made faces, but only slightly, too used to the burn to be bothered by it now. "Can't believe some dumb shmuck left you out by yourself."

"Happens all the time." she said breezily. "I needed it, though. The night out with the boys. I like 'em better than bein' around girls. I'm not regular, so..."

"No, you're not. Certainly not regular." Bucky said mildly. "But I think you're better that way."

"Me too." she shrugged. "I mean... I think so. Sometimes. I'm never... enough."

"Don't know about that, babydoll, you're all the woman that the boys could handle." She laughed, and glanced at Steve's drink, then at Steve, who kept his eyes shut for the moment.

"Aw," she said, lower. "Should we wake him up?"

"Eh. He's out. I'll move him soon. Eventually. After I have my one drink more and go to bed. Join me for his?"

"I said one drink, Buck, just the one-"

"It's already outta the bottle. C'mon. One more."

"Well... guess it's outta the bottle. S'not gonna hurt now, is it?" she said, and Steve cracked his eyes to see she was again, fiddling with her ankle straps. "Although the way I'm goin', I can't even get my damn shoes off."

"Let me do it." he said, and put his glass down with a clink. He put his hand under her calf and brought her knee up, making her slide down on the couch. Luckily she'd taken a big draw from her glass, so nothing spilled. She did make quite a cute squeaky noise, and laughed, setting her glass down on the table behind her head.

He fumbled with the catches for a long moment, then swore under his breath, squinting at them.

"Your fingers are too big." she said mildly.

"That's nothin' no dame's complained about before." he retorted with a purely dirty grin, before he realized what he'd said and to whom he'd said it. "I- uh-"

She burst out laughing, barely managing to catch it with both hands to muffle how loud it would've otherwise been.

"Bucky, you goddamn pervert." she teased, and nudged him with her heel. He wore color high in his cheekbones, shaking his head, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes. "Get my shoes off, please and thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep your hat on." he muttered, smirking slightly, but still embarrassed. "I, uh... Forgot, for a second. You're... I forgot you're a..."

"I know." the clasp came undone for one of the shoes and she put her heel down on the carpet, making him undo the other buckle before he actually took the shoe off on her behalf. Her legs closed at the knee, pitched on a strange angle but kept off from Bucky.

"Hah!" he said, triumphant. "See! I did it! Big fingers be damned!"

The shoe slid out of his drunk fingers and bounced on the floor, making him swear and reach for it. Effectively, it pinned her hips with his own. He braced a hand on the arm of the couch to support most of his weight, reaching for the shoe, but when he finally caught it, the position they were in made him hover, slightly.

There was a beat, and then she closed the distance, kissing his lower lip timidly.

His eyes fluttered, and Steve saw his shoulders relax as she brought a hand slowly to the top of his head, nails sliding over his skull and settling on the nape of his neck. He kissed her softly, his free hand dropping the shoe back on the floor, coming up to frame her waist.

She made a small noise in the back of her throat, a tiny moan, pitched. Bucky pressed down on her slightly, and the noise came again, louder.

Steve swallowed, tried to shut his eyes against it.

There was a wet break, when Bucky dropped a red smear kiss against the hinge of her jaw, then just behind it, making her gasp. Her eyes were shut tight, hands in nervous claws on his shoulders.

"Bucky," she whispered, and pulled the back of his shirt. "Bucky."

"Whassamatter?" he breathed against her throat. "Too fast?"

"Mm." she made a strangled noise, put a fist against his shoulder and pushed up. "Mhm."

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean - I thought you -"

"I'm sorry," she said. "Cuz I kissed you."

"I mean, I didn't exactly stop you." he leaned back, bring the back of his hand to swipe the red color off his mouth. She sat, scooting back on the sofa, smoothing trembling hands over her skirt. "I thought... maybe you were sweet on Steve."

"I'm not sweet on anybody." she said, maybe a little roughly, and pressed her fingers to her mouth, looking at the floor. "I can't really afford to be. I mean, it's just-... No one's sweet on me. Ever. No fella wants a dame on his arm who can make bullets or shoot 'em or fix her own door. I'm sorry, Bucky, really. I just - I ain't never been kissed before."

"You what?" his head swiveled to stare at her.

"I ain't been kissed before?" she looked at him, eyes wide. "Was it bad?"

"No one's ever-...?" he blinked at her. "No one's ever kissed you?"

She shook her head, covered her mouth with her hand.

"It was bad, wasn't it?"

"No, no, doll, I'm not sayin' that. I just-... Why not?"

"Why not  _what_?" she was mortified, Steve could see, color filling her cheeks.

"Why hasn't anybody kissed you before?" he said it almost like a demand, running a hand over his hair, smoothing it back down from where she'd messed it up.

"Because I'm -..." she moved her hand from mouth to slightly heaving chest. "No one wanted to, that's why."

"Well, they're dumb." he said, and leaned over to knock her shoulder with his. "It was good, okay? Don't look so upset."

"I don't know why I did that." she muttered, and put her hands in her lap. "I guess I just didn't want to die alone without ever bein' kissed."

Bucky put his arm over her shoulders.

"As far as first kisses go that was pretty..." he made a noise, like a bomb exploding, and she dropped her eyes to her hands. "If I hadda known I woulda kissed you different. Sweeter."

"Doesn't matter." she muttered, and reached for Steve's drink. He propped his elbow up on the back of the couch.

"Would you let me?" he said mildly, and she stared at him over the rim of the glass. "Kiss you sweet?"

"Why?" she said, putting the drink down on her knee.

"I shoulda done it anyway. I just thought - you're always around guys, I thought that..."

"I'd have more experience."

"It sounds bad when you say it like that."

"But everyone thinks it anyway." she sighed, and looked at him, thinking. "Why'd you kiss me back, anyway?"

"Well, when a fella's got a dame pretty as you all wrapped up underneath him, and she's hanging onto his shirt like you were, I guess I thought you wanted me to."

"But you still didn't kiss me. I kissed you."

"I wasn't so sure. To be honest, Moxie, I kissed a lot of girls, so I know what one who wants a kissin' looks like." he pointed at her. " _You_  looked a little scared."

She blushed, turned her eyes back down.

"That's cause I was." she passed him Steve's glass, and he drank the remaining dregs, smacking his lips at the taste. "I thought you were probably gonna throw me out on my ear and tell Steve I was some kinda tramp not allowed back in here again." She rubbed her mouth with her fingertips.

"Huh." he said, and stared at the back of her head. "That's sad, doll."

"It is what it is." she replied, and turned her head, possibly trying to say goodbye, when he leaned forward and caught the back of her skull, pressing a very tender kiss to both her lips, steering her head so they didn't bump noses.

She made the same quiet noise, but instead of moving on or being encouraged, Bucky put his other hand to her face, sweeping her hair behind her ear with gentle fingertips. Her hands had came up to bunch around his shirt, white knuckle tight. Steve watched as he parted her mouth with his tongue, and the sweeter kiss that followed.

They broke apart. Bucky guided her head to his shoulder, arms hanging languidly over her like he'd known her for years. She clung to his shirt for dear life, eyes closed, nose pressed against his sternum.

"That's a better first kiss." he said into her hair.

"Mm." she said, and managed to unwind the fistfuls of shirt she had scrunched in her hands, put them back on her own lap. "Uhm, thanks."

"You're welcome." he kissed the side of her face. "You know, you talk about yourself like you've got somethin' wrong with you. There ain't nothin' wrong with you."

"Sure Buck. Like that isn't all the booze talking."

"I ain't lyin'. Tell you when we're sober." he smiled at her, breaking the serious tension. "I mean it. You're not regular, like other girls, but you ain't gotta be. I like you the way you are, and I'd bet Steve'd say the same."

She glanced at Steve, who was still watching between barely open lids. He was all kinds of conflicted, unsure of what to do or say, unsure of if he'd mention it in the morning or if he'd want Bucky to tell him what had happened. He thought they had chemistry; but they were still talking about him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think he's sweet on you, lil' bit."

"Me?" her voice broke. "He's- me?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her, over his shoulder. "I reckon he is. So if you wanted to make a date with him..."

"Uhm." she sounded strangled, and put a hand up to her throat. "I don't know how."

"What'd you mean, you don't know how? You've set up dates before?"

"But not- like this." she swallowed. "I'm usually... in my work gear. Makes me braver, in boots. Don't laugh." she couldn't help but smile when he cackled, and swatted his arm. "It's not funny. I just feel better in boots, okay? Heels make me feel... wobbly."

"What were you gonna do next Sunday? Get lunch and draw?"

"Yeah?" she looked at him with big eyes. "Is that bad?"

"It's a bit... platonic. Steve's new to this as much as you are. Gotta be forward."

"Well I don't get called 'Moxie' for nothin'." she mused, and glanced over at Steve when Bucky cracked a laugh that might've woke him up. "Think he'll really like me?"

"Know so." he shrugged his shoulder, and looked over at him too. "But, uh, might wanna keep your kissin' history to yourself, for a bit."

"Sure?"

"Well, I wouldn't... It might make him think you're- you know. With him to get at me."

"Don't be so full of yourself." She laughed, then stared at him. "You're serious?"

"Happened before. Twice." he recalled, and leaned his head back on the couch. "Ladies hang around him to wait out whatever fling I'm in."

"That ain't no lady." she said, sneering. "That's what we in polite company call a  _bitch_."

They dissolved into laughter, then sat in quiet for several long seconds. Darcy's eyes were already shutting.

"I gotta go." she said groggily.

"One more?" Bucky mused, but then they were both quiet, both thinking, and then Darcy's head tipped in his direction and she landed on his shoulder.

Bucky cracked open an eye to see her, for a moment, then he shifted out from under the unconscious dame and laid her out on the couch. In a few minutes, he came back with the blankets off Steve's bed, dragging the heaviest one over her and the rest over Steve. He patted the corners in, then peered into his face, tapping on his cheekbone.

"What?" Steve grumped into the couch.

"I kissed Moxie." he whispered. "But she wants to date you."

"What?" He opened an eye.

"Moxie." he said, and inclined his head at the couch behind him. "We kissed. But she doesn't wanna date me. She wants to date you."

Steve just stared at him for a long second. Didn't he _just_  tell Darcy that she should keep it a secret? Why was he telling Steve, then, if he'd thought he'd been asleep?

"Okay, Buck." he put his head back down. "Whatever you say."

Bucky snickered, and patted his head.

"Night."

"G'night."

He pulled Darcy's legs up onto the couch while he went past, then went into his own room, shutting the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just quickly, thanks for reviewing! 
> 
> Also, I'm going to mention a couple things - 
> 
> 1) Darcy's a bit of a hard ass. That's gonna change/be explained - she becomes more like her movie self in the middle-end bit of this story, but more so in the sequel to this, of which is being written in the Avengers timeline.   
> Just because time period differences... I figure she's more defensive about herself because most men don't appreciate it like they do in the 2000's, and she's got more on her plate than in our era.
> 
> 2) This is set about just before Bucky's drafted, and the beginning of the CA movie, which'll be more solid when I post the chapter. (because I've forgotten how long it is, my bad.)
> 
> Okay!   
> Hope you're enjoying. Drop any questions if something is confusing, I have no Beta and I've been sitting on this fic for well over a year. 
> 
> Reviews get chapters faster ;)

Darcy wasn't sure why the sun was in her face when it usually didn't get in her eyes until late afternoon. The windows were on the wrong side of the building to catch the sun in the morning, and her body clock (and pounding headache) informed her she should wake up, soon.

She put her arm over her eyes, making a grunting noise as she shifted in her cushions, wriggling around until she found a comfy spot with her back to the sun. She had work. One of her stockings were loose around her ankle. Her feet throbbed from teetering in heels, and her bra was digging into her rib cage.

...

Wait a second.

She opened her eyes, squinting slightly, before lifting the heavy blanket and looking at her still-dressed self. She looked around at the small lounge, quite similar to her own, then she thought about kissing Bucky, and slapped her own forehead, which did  _wonderful_  things for her headache.

There were noises filtering into the haze of her snooze. She was too comfortable to move, let alone listen. Slowly, she sat, listening to the kettle whistle and feet shuffle on the floor. When she managed to open one eye and lift her head to check what was happening, Bucky had perched his rear on the counter and was just inhaling the smell of his coffee, still more asleep than awake.

She turned her head to glance at the clock.

"Bucky?"

"Mm?"

"It's five thirty."

"Yup."

"Why're you awake?" she tucked back into her couch. "Why'm I awake?"

He chuckled, mosied onto the other couch, putting his socked feet up on the table, easing in the cushion.

"Got work." he mumbled. "Start at six. Takes me twenty minutes t'get there."

"Shit." she said, surprised when he laughed so genuinely at her. She opened both eyes, blinking rapidly.

"Tried not to wake you." he mumbled.

"Well...shit." she said again, and rubbed her face while he laughed. "Gotta get up and go too. Start soon." she muttered.

Then Steve's hand settled on her shoulder, and although she jolted and stared at him with wide eyes, he just smiled, a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked pale and gaunt, slightly more ill than she'd ever seen him.

"You're a godsend." she said, and sat, taking the cup from him. "Do you have anything on today?"

"School at nine." he said softly, and disappeared for a moment to retrieve his own tea. He went to sit on the couch with Bucky, but she bundled the covers and her numb legs and opened up a spot for him. He just smiled, and sat beside her, blowing on his beverage.

"Did you get your structure sketches done?"

"Yes. I get the marks back today." he nodded. "I think I did okay."

"I reckon you did." she said, and leaned her head against the back of the couch. "Can I come by and see how you went after work?"

He looked at his tea, eyes twinkling.

"I'd like that."

"Aw, hell. You two." Bucky said, and got to his feet, stretching.

"What?" Darcy said, defensively, looking up at him.

"Nothin'. Just sweet enough to give a guy a damn toothache."

"Shut up." Steve said into his drink, and sipped it. As soon as he put it down on his knee, his free hand came up to trap the cough that came out of his mouth in a fist. He doubled over, and Darcy took his tea before he spilt it, rubbing between his shoulder blades.

She stared at Bucky, brows pitched in worry.

He sighed, and picked up the blankets from where Steve had slept on the couch, draping them over the coughing fella, who clutched at his chest and tried to drag them closer to his person. Darcy was half trapped under there with him, rubbing his spine, so she removed herself and tucked them closer to him, still petting his shoulder under all the covers.

"You alright?" she said, and leaned forward, once he was calming down. "Tea?"

"Please." he said with a weak cough. He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut and wiped them on the blanket, sniffling. He took the cup behind the covers, nursing it in both hands, and sipped. "Thank you."

"It's alright." she said, and stared at his profile. "Was that because you were cold?"

He nodded, looking at his knees.

"Mox," Bucky said casually. "S'nearly five forty. When do you gotta leave?"

"'Round now." she muttered, but didn't want to, didn't want to leave Steve coughing up his lungs without being there. "I-..." she stopped, looked at the time for herself. She still had to go and get dressed, put her handybelt on, and get to work.

"I'm okay." Steve said, looking terribly small underneath all his covers. "You can go."

She squirmed under her blanket and reattached the fallen stocking to her garter, looking at the time and cursing. Bucky decided he'd take a quick piss before he went, which gave Darcy a minute alone with Steve.

"I'm-" she said then stopped, fretting at her shirt sleeve. "Gonna come round, later. Is that... Is that still okay?"

"Yeah." he blinked, bewildered up at her, apparently surprised she was telling him. "If you have time, that's... fine."

"I'll make time." she said, and quite determinedly sat beside him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheekbone, before popping out of her seat and hollering a red-faced goodbye as she went out the door.

Bucky didn't even make pretense about flushing, because he hadn't gone in there for any reason other than to leave the two of them alone and eavesdrop.

"Kiss ya?"

"On the cheek," he was still holding his face. "She's coming round tonight."

"Good. I'll be out." he said, and reached over to put a hand on his shoulder. "Try keep your mouth shut, huh? Don't give your foot any chance to get into it. I like this one, she's a keeper."

"Is that because you had your tongue in her mouth?" came the dry retort, and Bucky froze, staring at him without blinking.

"Are you mad?"

Steve thought.

No, he wasn't mad. But he had concerns. He could count the amount of dames he'd kissed on one hand - on two fingers - so he was quite familiar with the 'take what you can get' dilemma. But the way Bucky kissed her, the way she'd reacted, how could he match up to that?

"Nah." he sat back, encased in blankets. "Not really."

"Good." he took his hand from Steve to run it over his hair. A stubborn lock at the front sprung back into place on his forehead. "I, uh, I'll be back around eight. Maybe later. I'll knock." he said, and grinned very suddenly.

"I'm not gonna do anything with her." Steve muttered in protest.

"Yeah, sure. Maybe she'll do somethin' with you."

There was a rap on the door and then it burst open - Darcy had a little cap on, trapping her hair away from her face. She had goggles around her neck that were already leaving dark streaks and she was in overalls and boots.

"Oh." she said, scrunching her nose at Bucky. "Well. Time to go, Buck, get off your ass, you're gonna be late!"

"Yeah, yeah." he rolled his eyes. " _Women_."

She aimed a kick at his rear as he went by, then shut the door behind him and jogged back to Steve, catching his face between both her hands before she kissed him full on the mouth, just the barest pressure against his lips.

"I-" she swallowed. "Forgot my shoes." she swooped down to pick them up, then kissed him again, more intently this time. Steve, who was sitting there like she'd whacked him with a hammer, still dazed and compliant, barely managed to offer a pucker of his own mouth before she bounced away.

"I'll see you tonight!" she said, yanked open the door, and hip and shouldered Bucky out of her way, calling him a nosy old woman for hanging around keyholes to get his kicks.

* * *

Darcy had been dying to get home all day. Usually she didn't mind putting in extra hours, but when they offered overtime she didn't put her hand up, despite them looking at her expectantly.

"What's with that?" Mario said as they walked out of the gates. "Thought you'd stay back for sure. Don't you know who's gonna pop by for a surprise inspection soon?"

"S'bit different when you got a sweetheart waiting on you." she muttered, but he didn't understand, her accent too thick for his secondary language to pick up. When he prodded, she shrugged, said: "Don't worry about it," and nearly ran up all the flights of stairs to get to Steve's apartment.

She barely caught her breath when he answered, beaming, looking healthier than he had in the morning.

"Hiya." she said, grinning stupidly. She had more oil on her face than she liked to think about and her hands were smudged with the stuff, but Steve didn't look at any of that, just beaming back at her. "How'd your marks go?"

"I got eighty nine percent." he declared. "Top three in the class."

"No shit!" she exclaimed, and he swung aside with a laugh, letting her into the apartment. "Bucky home?"

"No." he said slowly, and she waited to hear the door click before she turned and pressed a kiss on his mouth again.

He wasn't expecting it - and she still didn't know what she was doing - so it was just a prolonged mash of mouths, for a long moment. When she thought he hated her, hated her forward and her smelling like a grease monkey, his hands settled softly on her waist. Somehow, even though she wore workmen's boots and overalls, had greasy hair and no make up on, his hands on her like that made her feel womanly.

And usually, for a girl like Darcy, that was a bad thing. But it wasn't bad when Steve did it. It was just sweet.

His palms molded against her shape, even over the rough material, she could feel he was being careful. She had her hands around his face, trailing feather light thumbs over his cheekbones, just loving the feel of him. Of this. Of kissing and being kissed back.

She broke it, wetting her lip, not quite willing to let his face out of her hands until she saw the smudges she left on his skin.

"Oh." she whispered. "I got a mess on you."

"I don't care." he muttered, and swallowed, before pressing his mouth back on hers.

"Gotta wash my hands, at least." she said against his lips, and he sighed. She grinned wide, took one of the hands settled so carefully on her person, and dragged him to the bathroom, finding a dark green towel to dampen and wipe his face clear with.

She bent to wash her hands, paying particular attention when she usually didn't bother, when Steve leaned over the sink and kissed her cheek. She blushed, shot him an amused, twinkly eyed look, but he was biting into his lip, looking nervous.

Her heart dropped like a stone in her gut.

"What?" she turned the taps off. "Did I do something wrong?"

He shook his head vehemently.

"No. Not at all. I just..." his eyes dropped to her overalls. "Are you alright, Darcy?"

"Huh?" her brow cocked.

"Are you alright?" he said again, and turned the full force of his very blue eyes onto her face. "You're... very thin."

She blinked at him, slowly.

"Do you... not like, that?"

"I just-" he looked at her, studying her face. "I just realized that, all the hours I known you, I haven't seen you eat."

"I eat." she said, and shrugged, swiping the towel around the sink. "I get lunch everyday."

"What about dinner?" his eyebrows came down. "You gotta have somethin'. You're... You're very thin."

"So's half of Manhattan." she said with a smile aimed at him. He couldn't help but notice it wasn't as bright as her normal smiles.

"I -" he smiled softly. "I just, I wanted to hold you closer to me, and I had to go lookin' for you."

"S'not somethin' that usually happens, what with - you know." she motioned at her chest. "The girls."

"No they're - you're-" he put his eyes up on the ceiling. "They just make you look bigger than I thought you were."

She blushed, looking at the sink, then flicked her eyes back up at him.

"Lemme go have a shower." she said with a coy smile. "And then I'll come back and we can -"

"Go to dinner." he said, eagerly. "Let me take you to dinner."

She'd been on dates before, more were bust, or short. Never with any one of whom she actually liked, of whom she wanted things to become  _more_.

She couldn't help but smile widely.

"Gonna take me out on the town?"

"Show you off." he replied, and his nerves vanished.

"Give me ten minutes." she said, and they stared at each other for a long minute, before they reached for each other and kissed again. His hands dug more securely into her waist, while her arms went around his neck and she tilted her head the way she'd felt Bucky do, so she didn't smash against his nose.

He stepped against her until she had her shoulders up against the wall, arms winding around her waist. She could feel the overalls bagging against her, realized that yes, she was quite thin from the tits down and a good meal probably wouldn't hurt her. Least of all, one with Steve, sweet Steve, who was no more putting the moves on her even with his mouth attached to her face.

"Ten minutes." he said against her chin, and she was very glad she'd wiped it clean. She kissed his cheek, unwinding her arms.

"Ten minutes." she agreed, and all but ran out of there, barely containing her laughter.

She took the stairs two at a time, pressing a splaying hand against her handy belt so nothing fell out. That didn't stop it from making loud noises, as she tore up the stairs and came to a halt, as there was a man sitting with his back to it, knees up, hat spinning in his hands.

"Excuse me," he said, giving her what she was sure he thought was a dazzling smile as he got to his feet. "Are you Darcy Lewis?"

"Only my mother calls me Darcy, and only when I'm in trouble." she arched a brow, heart pounding. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, not at all." the guy, with his slick hair, stuck out his hand. "Maybe you recognize me - I'm Howard Stark."

She did, but didn't mention it, grudgingly striding forward and sticking her hand in his. She found it intensely more comfortable when she saw familiar stains on his nails, but still wasn't sure why he was sitting outside her door, smiling at her like that.

"Friends call me Moxie." she said, and blinked at him, taking her hand to put it on the handybelt.

"Moxie. That's cute." he repeated, smile entirely cheeky. His suit, she was sure, was more than a month of rent. Navy blue and pinstriped, with shiny shoes tipping from under his trousers, red suspenders peeking from under his coat. "I'm here to talk to you about your work at the factory."

"What about it?" she cocked her head, wet her lip and put her hand to the hat on her head, rubbing her sticky hair underneath.

"Well, see, I've been putting out a series of small tests out to be distributed in all major factories in engineering." he said, perfectly charming smile in place. "And there's only ever been a handful of people who picked up on them. Only one who not only picked up on them all, but corrected them and improved the initial design. I'm glad to say I'm lookin' at her."

She blinked at him slowly.

"Why?"

"Well, see, Stark Industries - my company - needs sharp minds. We need whetstones and we need people who understand mechanics or dynamics instinctively, and we need people with initiative. I'm here to offer you a job, Moxie." he flashed her all his teeth in a blindingly white smile.

She glanced at her watch.

"Are you gonna be around later?" she said lightly, and watched the cheerful smile all but fall off his face. "I gotta date in six minutes."

"Hm." he said shortly, and took her wrist, glancing at the tiny watch. "Well, I'll be around, sure, baby. I don't know where. I should probably mention before you say no, the pay and all the travel you'll be able to do-"

She fished out her keys and opened the door, waving him inside. He went, having a long look at the various carved things on her shelves, one radio disbanded on the coffee table, and the modified wireless on the counter next to empty coffee cups.

"Keep talking." she said, and went the kitchen, scrubbing up her arms and knocking her cap off onto the counter, scooping all her hair into one hand. She dunked the back of her neck under the stream, rubbing the skin until it ran clear, then scrubbed the front and her hair part with a handful of soap.

"Well, ma'am, you'd be traveling with me as my personal apprentice, anywhere from France to Peru, places you can't even name - all paid for, of course. The company foots the food bills on your stays, and all the luxury hotel hopping to boot. Speaking of boots, you get a regulation work uniform tailored to your specifications, within the Industrial guidelines, of course." he chuckled.

She kept her face down, studiously washing her hair.

"...And I'd be happy, more than happy, to show you the ropes of not only mechanical workings, but those with more scientific implications. We, as humans, for example, are just machines with particularly complex parts, and I'm currently studying them myself. You'd be learning on the job with hardly any restrictions, provided I'm informed of what you're doing or, what you're trying to do. It's all hands on - hardly any theory. I think you and I are both firm believers that the best learning is done when you're doing something, am I right?"

She kept her head in the sink, made a vague grunting noise.

"...Aaaaand I'm currently doing work with the SSR in relation to the war effort, of helping our troops-" she looked at him, dripping down the back of her shirt. He seemed pleased she was finally paying him attention, preening under her stare.

"What kinda work?"

"It's classified."

"Give me an idea."

He thought for a moment.

"How much do you know about hyper-cellular activity or the outer cranium stimulation of the cerebral cortex?"

She blinked at him, put her head back under the water, and scrubbed with her nails.

"I know there's a lotta pretty words in there." she echoed into the sink, then turned it off and drained most of it off, before going to her bathroom and rubbing her face and hair roughly with a scratchy towel. "Words I don't know, 'cuz I don't study, so I don't think I'll be very useful."

"Let me explain something to you." he said, putting his hands up as though in defense. "I can see your potential. You've picked up every mistake I've ever put into circulation, and you even improved not one, not two or three, but  _four_  of my machines. You know what you're doing with my tech, better than I've ever seen with people I've worked with for months or years. We click." he snapped his fingers, and she nearly leveled him with a look.

"We don't click." she snapped her fingers back at him, and he flinched. "I just understand basics. Getting things from here to there, which your 'tests' didn't do. All I did was move some bits around and weld. I ain't special."

"You are." he corrected. "I've got the figures to prove it. And without any study, any at all, you're a goddamn work of art, if you don't mind me saying."

She did, but he rolled on.

"Your brain is phenomenal, just how it is. Think of the good you could do if you had access to materials, to text books, to study." He waggled his eyebrows. "You're good, Moxie, baby, but you could be brilliant."

No one was so easy with the nice talk, the compliment giving, especially not with her. She colored, looked at her hands, the cracks still wet and stained. It was men's work, what she did, but didn't Howard Stark come all the way to her apartment and sit at the door just to offer her a job? Didn't that validate her theory that she was better than even the superiors? That when she drew connections in her mind's eye, that wasn't something anyone could do?

"I've gotta date to go on." she said again, and looked up at him. "But, uh... I can I speak to you tomorrow, I guess."

He stared at her for a long second.

"He must be pretty special, this fella you're running off to meet."

"He is." she said, and couldn't quite help the smile that cracked on her face.

"Huh." he studied her for a moment, then smiled again. "Tell you what, sugar. I'll come by the factory tomorrow just for you, we'll do lunch and talk over the offer. What time do you get off?"

"Twelve thirty for lunch." she replied promptly.

"Well." he clapped his hands, rubbed them together, then took his hat from under his arm and set it back on his head. "I'll see you twelve thirty tomorrow, then."

She shook his hand and locked the door behind him, already pulling off her clothes to pull on her skirt and the only other button up shirt she owned that was nice enough to go out to dinner in. She had to wait precious seconds for the drop of perfume to roll onto her wrist, which she dabbed behind her ears.

She flattened her mostly damp hair, smeared a careful swipe of the nub of ruby red lipstick she'd bummed off of Mathew Jones' girl a couple weeks ago, and blinked some mascara on before pulling on her only pair of flat shoes, tying them in quick bows before running back down the stairs.

Steve opened the door as she got to his floor, and she beamed, hands smoothing nervously over her skirt.

"Hi." he said, and she melted, feeling stupid and goofy, but pleasantly so.

"Hi." she replied, and fought against biting her lip, because of her lipstick.

"You're..." he made a motion at her, and she looked down to make sure she looked decent. The skirt gaped at the side of her waist, hanging a little lower than it was intended, but he said the word: "Lovely," and she could feel how warm that made her chest.

"Thanks." she patted her hair. "You're pretty slick yourself."

"Heh." he shoved his hands in the tweed pockets of his trousers, then swallowed and closed the door behind him, before opening his wing to her. "Do you, uhm, have a preference?"

"For what?"

"What we eat." he said, and shrugged. "I don't know where we're going."

She giggled.

"Neither do I." she mused, very honestly, and nudged his shoulder. "But I'm pretty jazzed that we're on the way."

He caught the double meaning, looking across to press a very quick kiss to her cheek.

"Quit." she said, and beamed at him. "Can't kiss you till we're home. Or you'll wear my lipstick."

"It'll be worth it." he said, under his breath, but she laughed and tucked closer to him anyway.

"You'll look so pretty in red." she teased, and he snorted, linking their fingers together.

"Not as good as you." he admitted, and they kept their heads down, blushing the entire way out of the building.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll make it general knowledge now that there is a sequel - this story is going all the way into the Winter Solider, I'm pretty sure - and no, that's not finished yet, but getting there. I don't think it'll be as long as this one, but it'll have length, no doubt. :)
> 
> Reviews get chapters faster!  
>  ;)

The date was the best of Darcy's life.

So much so, that she completely forgot about Howard Stark and his offer, and just relaxed into the evening. When Steve insisted on walking her up to her apartment, she just slowed them down, so he wasn't breathing so heavy when they got to the third floor.

They mosied up to the door, him holding her hand and smiling at her with color in his cheeks.

"'Bout time I put some lipstick on you, I think." she murmured, and attacked. He dug hands into her back and dragged them over her shoulders, over her tiny waist, pawing at the fabric under his fingers.

She had one hand bracing the back of his head, the other wound under his arm and on his shoulder, bringing him as close to her as physically possible.

He, being a gentleman, eventually broke it, and kissed her wrist, the palm of her hand, and her cheek, before he let her go, wiping at his mouth with his hand. It was still very pink, and smudged to hell.

"I'll come by tomorrow." she promised, and he just grinned.

"I look forward to it." he mused, and walked down the stairs, looking absolutely debauched with the mess she'd made of his hair, and the smear of color around his mouth. She hovered at the top of the stair case, head turned to hear the door open and Bucky's shout of laughter, Steve's rather proud: "Shut your mouth!"

She washed her face and slept like a baby, waking earlier than she needed to and taking an indulgent shower than she didn't have the day prior. She missed Bucky on his way to work, but was practically skipping, faint smile on her bare face as she strolled into the building with her hand already closing around her handybelt, ready to start the day.

She'd totally forgotten about Howard Stark until he wondered in, flanked by her superiors, looking for her among her peers. Mario, beside her, leaned over.

"I tell you he was coming." he said sneakily.

"Yeah, yeah." she muttered, but it was apparently enough, because Howard's head turned her way. " _Shit_." she said, and lifted her chin as he came over. Mr Drew, on his left, gave her a long once over, pausing on her pointed chin and tiny hands on the handybelt.

"Turns out," Howard said with a mega watt smile. "I actually have places to be, at twelve thirty, so we're having breakfast, my lady." he held out the crook of his elbow, and Mathew, who was working at a table a few meters back, snickered.

"Moxie doesn't know how to be a lady," he offered in a friendly holler. "Might wanna try somethin' a mite less."

"Yeah, so might you." she hollered back, and he grawffed. Mr Deen, on Mr. Stark's right, frowned deeply. "I had breakfast." she told the engineer, who was still smiling, but had his hand on his hip.

"Well, your boss' have agreed to give you the time off."

"I can't afford the time off." she reminded him, eyebrows pitched. "I have rent to pay."

"I'm covering it." he said mildly, and waved his hand around, before opening his arm in a sweep. "We have things to discuss."

She sighed heavily, like it was the bane of her existence to give up working to make time for food and a nice chat with an attractive millionaire.

He showed her outside to the shiniest car she'd ever seen. It had a man in a neat suit who opened the door for her, and closed it behind her. She could've counted on two hands how many times she had been in a car - her family was still big on horses, more so on push bikes - so she wasn't at all familiar.

She clicked her seat belt in and tightened it on her stomach, holding onto the door handle.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, as he pulled off his hat and set it on his knee, not bothering with his belt. Today his suit was plum colored, the shirt a deep red. His tie was silver, matching the shiny cuff links and the watch that peeped out from under his sleeve.

"To breakfast. Someplace nice." he sent her a grin. "Maybe in New York."

She blinked at him.

"I have to work." she said again, enunciating carefully, like perhaps he didn't understand. "To earn money. To afford to _live_."

"I told you, I've covered it." he said, and put his hands behind his head. "Relax, babydoll. You want a drink?"

"At six thirteen in the morning?"

"Sure. You can have the day off."

"I don't want the day off." she replied, but sat back in the plush chair with a heavy sigh. "But what are you drinking?"

"Thatta girl." he mused, and reached forward, digging around in the cupboard that she hadn't seen.

He presented her with a choice - she just chose what he was mixing for himself and took a long pull from the glass before looking out the window, feeling vaguely guilty, for something she couldn't explain.

"How did the date go?" he mused.

She looked back to see his head relaxed on the back seat, eyes half lidded but focused on her. His drink was balanced on his knee, on a napkin to protect the suit.

"It was good." she replied, warmly, feeling a frustration smile curl on her mouth. "Best of my life."

"Think much about my offer?" he said lightly, lifting the drink to his mouth.

"Not at all." she cocked a half grin. "It was a very _good_  date."

"I'm sure." he mused, and looked out his own window. "I haven't been on a date for years, can't be sure about the women being spies. That, and I haven't had the time. Lotta work, what I do. What I'm  _trying_  to do. But you don't seem to have a problem with a heavy workload. Deen said something about you working more than the men."

"Yeah, but things are different." she said, and shrugged. "I got someone to come home to now."

"He could come too." he turned his head to see her. "Good with his hands?"

"An artist. And I don't mean that figuratively. He draws a real pretty picture." she smiled down at her drink, but looked back up to him when he made a noise. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking." he shrugged. "He could come with us, do his art. I'd make it real easy to get him famous, paid work 'n' all."

She blinked at him.

"You-... Would bring him along?"

"If it's gonna keep you here, instead of working that big beautiful brain of yours, then yes. There's no point in hanging around here for a fella when he might as well come along. I don't wanna break any hearts, you seem like a nice lady."

"Heh." she said, and took a long pull of the drink. "Well, I dunno 'bout 'nice', or 'lady'."

He chuckled, as if in on the joke, and looked out his window again. She did the same, studying the city, the kids crowding at the curb to see who was in the pretty, shiny car. She twinkled fingers in a wave, and most froze, but a few didn't, poking out tongues or waving back.

"How long've you been with this guy, anyway?"

She glanced over at him, to see him still staring resolutely out of his window.

"I, uh... known him two weeks today."

"What?" he swiveled to look at her, brows raised. "No kidding?"

"No." she shrugged.

"Huh. See, it just seemed like something older." he said. "More serious."

"I like him," she said evenly. "It's pretty serious to me."

"Serious enough to give up international travel and the opportunity of a lifetime to pursue?"

She waited only a second.

"Lemme tell you something, Mr. Stark. I ain't regular. For a girl like me to have a guy, any guy at all, it's not - I never had a chance. But my fella - he's special. Kind and warm. He's worth everything, just for what he's given me now."

"In a couple weeks?" he drawled. "Come on, doll. You don't strike me the type to hang up on a guy."

"I'm not hung up." she said, and finished her drink, passing the glass back to him. "I'm just willin' to see it through."

He took pause then, nodding slowly.

"Think you can apply that same kinda dedication to work?"

"Always do." she said easily. "My daddy taught me that if I was gonna start somethin', I had to start it with my whole heart. S'not something I take lightly."

"Your daddy sounds like a smart man."

"He is." she said, nodding.

They fell into silence, staring out their own windows. Occasionally, she'd see his reflection in hers, staring at the side of her face, while she just tried to make like she didn't know he kept looking at her.

After dozing with her eyes open, the car slowed, and Mr. Stark put his hat back on, waving the driver to stay inside while he circled the back of the car and opened the door for her. Darcy was glad he didn't offer a hand because she wouldn't have taken it.

"You can leave the belt." he said, with good humor.

She forgot she was even wearing it, undoing the buckle and putting it back in the car.

"Where the hell are we?" she muttered, looking at the building. "That don't look like no cafe."

"I didn't say cafe. I said breakfast." he said brightly. "At my New York apartment. Hope you like crepes."

The hell was a crepe?

She followed him regardless, stepping out of her boots and following the lengthy hall down to what appeared to be a study - the entire thing had a long window wrapped around the semi-circular room, lighting up the red undertones in the wood. There were in built libraries touching the high ceiling, and a spiral staircase leading upwards. Despite the size of the room and all the things in it, the first thing Darcy went to was the table on which several guns were sitting.

"Oh, those are just some of the things you could learn how to make," he was loosening his obnoxious silver tie. "If you join me."

She looked around at him, but he was sitting on a comfy looking chair, smiling at her from behind freshly brewed tea.

"You're over eager." she told him with a smirk. "It's making me wanna say no just to watch what you'll do."

"Pretty much anything you want from me, babydoll." he said with a grin. "You name it."

She thought about that a long moment.

"I don't know enough about car engines." she said finally. "But Stark Industries makes them, right?"

"I designed the Falcon myself, from the rubber of the tires to the antenna for the radio." he mused. "And I'll let you in on a little secret: might not even need tires, soon."

"That so?"

"It is. Coupla years and I'll get it right. If I had a hand, of course, might come sooner..." he waggled his eyebrows.

She scoffed.

"What else?"

"What else, what?"

"What could I learn?" she blinked. "If, I join."

"Everything?" he spread his hands. "You'd be my apprentice. Whatever I work on, you'd learn. In and out."

"What about if I don't?" she took a seat across from him, not sure of what to do with her hands or with her legs. She decided to tuck them neatly to the side, even if the pull of jean on her leg was uncomfortable and bunched weirdly around the crotch. "What if I'm only good at - picking things up, simple things, in my own time? What if I'm only good with structure, the- the bones of a design?"

"You know what?" he leaned forward, elbows to knees. "You learned just fine by yourself. It's not going to be hard once I point out a couple things to you." he studied her for a long second, then grinned a mile wide.

"I don't think I mentioned, the pay is six figures a year."

She whistled lowly, put her elbows up on the arms of the chair, eyebrows hiked on her forehead.

"Mention that sooner, next time you offer someone a job."

"I never had to." he grinned. "You're the first one to even remotely hesitate. I don't know how to handle rejection."

"No shit." she said, and he laughed. Darcy had never been offered anything, she'd always had to try, always had to ask, always had to fight. But the one thing her daddy had drummed into her head, was not to take a good deal without knowing the bad deal first. "So. I get free travel, place to stay, get taught all matter of fancy things, get to maybe drag my boy across the world and see some sights. But there's a catch, right?"

"Always." he said easily, and continued smiling. "A lot of what we do is top secret and you may become a target for espionage and kidnapping."

She wet her lower lip, tilted her head at him.

"Hullava catch."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I have measures in place. Bodyguards, whatever the military can spare. But see, if you bring your uh, friend, along and he can't help out... you'd need to keep secrets from him. Can you do that?"

She didn't know. Not really.

"I don't even know if he'd come along." she mused, looking up at the ceiling. "Let me talk to him, Mr. Stark. And let me have a think about it." she said thoughtfully.

"Really?" he sat back, looking vaguely perplexed. "Huh. Not even after the money."

"I know how to live without it," she reminded him. "S'ides. It's a lot to think about. I don't like secrets." she tucked her hair behind her ears, chewing her lip in thought.

"You're gonna be busy, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Can you tell me where you're gonna be?"

"That, my dear, falls under the 'top secret' part of proceedings." he said, with a smirk that wasn't unpleasant or condescending. Having been on the end of quite a few, Darcy had the differences mapped out.

"So how will I get back to you when I decide?"

He pursed his lips, making his mustache twitch.

"Tell ya what. I'm coming back in the area in a while to host an expo. Why don't you sort out your sweetheart, see if that picks up or shuts down, and get back to me then? Have a think. Properly."

"That'd be... perfect."

"Perfect." he said, and gave her the dazzling smile. "So until then, Miss Moxie Lewis, would you like some crepes?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is where it starts gaining some speed!   
> I'm so thankful for all the reviews, seriously. 
> 
> Have a long chap and some cute Steve ;)

The fact that she knocked with her boot didn't alert him, just the smell wafting under the frame.

"Holy cow." Bucky said, and swung aside. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Upstairs." she said, and tucked her chin over the boxes, teetering in to set them down on the bench. "Steve home?"

"Will be shortly." Bucky said, and peered in a box. "Where the hell did ya get all this  _food_?"

"Can we just wait for Steve? I only wanna explain once." she did, however, open the pasta and meatballs, and lift one to her mouth, chewing on it for a long time with her eyes closed.

"Good?" he said, and picked one up, shoving it in his mouth.

"So good." she replied around the ball, before Bucky put another in his mouth and groaned.

"Seriously." he looked at her with big eyes. "Marry me."

"Not my type." she scoffed, and put her hand over her mouth, chewing slowly.

They picked at bits and pieces for a few minutes, only managing to say: "Here, try this," and "You gotta taste this, have some," before Steve came home to see them sat around platters of food, Darcy up on the counter cross legged, and Bucky taking a long drink out of a wine bottle Stark had tucked under her arm.

"Your girl," Bucky's eyes were glittering. "You gotta marry her."

"Uhm." he looked at the food, at Darcy's clean face and hands. "I didn't know you cooked?"

"I don't," she swallowed whatever was in her mouth and opened her hand at Bucky, who passed the wine. "Better get pickin', dear, 'fore Bucky eats the whole damn lot."

"Already tried," Bucky said. "And she punched me."

Steve blinked at the food, his stomach growling.

"Where did you get this?"

"Take a seat." she swigged from the bottle, then held it out to him by the neck. He took it, took a sip, and shut his eyes.

"Oh, that's real sweet." he said, and took a longer gulp.

"I know. Best wine I ever tasted." Bucky said, but was looking at Darcy, chewing on his chicken.

"So, do I got a story for you two." she said, and wiped her hand over her mouth. "I uh, went home just after I saw you yesterday, Steve, to go hava shower 'n' get dressed. And there was a guy waitin' at my front door, sittin' on his ass, playing with his hat."

"He hurt you?" Steve said, nearly spitting back all the wine in his mouth.

"Nah." she said, with a quick grin. "It was Howard Stark."

There was a shocked pause. Bucky continued to shovel food into his mouth, but Steve just held onto his bottle.

"Why?" he said, brows drawing together.

"He wants me to be his apprentice." she said and put her head back on the wall. Briefly, she explained his proposal, going over the 'secret stuff' and how he'd take her all over the world, ending with mentioning that Steve was welcome to come along too.

Bucky stopped eating, then.

"What for?"

"I was hesitating." she shrugged. "He seemed to think it was because of Steve."

"Was it?" Steve said, and she then noticed that he was down half a bottle of wine.

"Yeah." she trapped him in a prolonged stare.

"Okay." Bucky said slowly. "So when are you leaving?"

"He's given me a few months to consider. He said to sort out my stuff with Steve, see how that works out, and then... He comes around in some sort of show, and I give him my answer."

The was a pause. Steve took a long drag from the bottle.

"I'd take it." Steve said earnestly. "Darcy, you should take it."

"Why?" she said.

"Because Howard Stark has  _money_ ," he said, eyes wide on her like she was being stupid. She did not like it. "And because he's got power, and lookit all this _food_. You'd be so much better off, so much healthier, and happier-"

"But Howard Stark doesn't have you." she said, frowning at him.

He flushed, even more than the red blotches already in his cheeks.

"You don't need me." he said, shaking his head, looking at the table.

"Don't I get a say in that?" she said quietly, looking at him from under her lashes. "I like you, Steve. We're-... Well, I don't know what we are, but I like you and I wanna be your girl. And I can't just go off with Howard Stark, because I wanna be with you."

"Oh, I uh - I can't go." he said, still looking determinedly forward. "I gotta stick around for Bucky."

"Well geeze, don't hang around on my account." Bucky said, tearing off a piece of chicken with his fingers, shoving it into his mouth. "I reckon you both go for it. I'll be-"

"Darcy," Steve said, more desperately talking over his old-time friend. "You could be so happy with him."

"So come with me." she said.

Steve blinked at her.

"But Bucky's all I got." he said, and frowned.

Bucky stopped chewing.

"Steve," he said. "You're actually right - you could be put up somewhere nice. Get fed. Get money."

"He said it'd make it easy for you to get work," Darcy piped up, her voice suspiciously high. "He, uhm, said that if you were an artist, it'd make it so easy for you to paint or draw and, uh, work."

"I can't leave." he shook his head, lifted the bottle to his mouth. He took it away, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "You wanna go, Darcy?"

Darcy just looked at the chocolate dessert by her leg, mulling it over in her mind.

"Not any more." she said, flatly, loudly, over the mounting tension. They both swiveled to look at her. "I'm not going. We're not going any where. This - what we got? What we got is good." she nodded to herself, and dunked her finger in the mousse, scooping up a bit to shove in her mouth.

"Aw, but hell if that ain't the best food I ever had."

Steve was giving her these eyes, big watery eyes.

"Don't look at me like that." she chided. "I'm not budging on this. I don't wanna put a timer on what I got, Steve. If you aren't comin' I ain't goin', and we can just be happy with what we have, right now. Cuz my daddy taught me that anythin' worth startin', it's worth startin' with your whole heart, and I wanna see where we go." she looked at him, nodding to herself.

"I wanna know we tried our best before either one of us backed out cuz we ain't done this before."

At first, Steve tried to defend himself, but the roaring blush on his face had very little to do with the wine, more because she knew exactly what was going on in his head. He had thought that, of course she'd go. Howard Stark had a near legendary status with women, he was rich and intelligent and the food alone should've made her run for the hills, away from him.

But she wanted to stay. Wanted to be his girl. Steve was sure he swooned.

"You- I - uh..." Steve said slowly. "I still think you'd be better off takin' the job."

"I know." she beamed. "But I still think we're worth it."

Steve looked into her eyes, pale blue, hit just right by the last streaks of sun filtering through the window. She was gorgeous, and she was sticking around for him. And she was looking at him, only him, even with Bucky in the room and all, she was only looking at him with the most precious smile on her face.

"Look, I'm not gonna lie," Bucky shattered the moment. "I should've already left by now, y'know, preserve modesty, or what-have-you, but goddamn the food is too _good_. Glad you're both sorted out, n'all, it's sweet. Pass those potatoes, would ya?" Bucky said, lifting a greasy hand to point at a box near Darcy's knee.

"And do us both a favor, and get that bottle away from this little punk before he tips it all over himself. Then we'll be right as rain."

* * *

The months seemed to fly by. Not only had Howard fed the three of them for two full days, but he'd been literal, when she said she had rent to pay and he told her he'd cover it.

So she had a lot of extra money that month, and she spent it on both the boys, and maybe squirreled away a little bit for herself.

* * *

The watch she bought for Bucky on his birthday, it made him look at her with the kind of warmth she had missed from her brothers. He picked up the silver plate, the thick leather band, rubbing his thumb over the shiny new face.

"Like it?" she said, unsure.

"Like it?" he cocked both brows. "Babydoll, this's gotta be half your rent. I can't-"

"It's not half the rent, and yes you can." when he struggled with it on his wrist, she took it and pushed the pin through the hole in the leather, fitting it to his size. "So, do you like it?"

"I love it, doll." he said, and his voice dropped a fraction. His hand came up to scrub at his eyes, before he pulled her under his chin for a tight hug. "Thank you."

"Okay, hands offa my girl." Steve said, and she laughed.

* * *

The first thing she ever bought Steve was for his art.

It was nearly midnight - Bucky had passed out on the couch and Darcy had stuck around to say a long, non-verbal goodbye. Then she pressed a finger against his lips, muttered: "Wait here, a sec," and ran up the stairs, then back down them, pushing into Steve's room.

When she broke the threshold, she was the first girl to ever step foot in there. She held a wooden box in her hand, a thin red ribbon wound around it.

"Don't say anything to Bucky." she murmured, still grinning.

"What's this about?" he crossed arms over his chest, felt the bite of cold on his toes.

"I got you a little somethin'. Don't tell me you can't accept it, I got a good deal with the guy who sold them to me, okay?" she handed him the box. "I know your birthday ain't anywhere near here, but I saw the way Bucky liked his present and I couldn't wait to give you yours."

He looked at the plain box, curly ribbon, unsure.

"Not that I'm not grateful, but... you shouldn't have. Bucky'll-"

"Forget Bucky. I got it for you." she was smiling so brightly, so warmly, and any resolve he had melted. "Come on, open it."

He turned and sat on his bed, putting his feet up on the edge, sliding the bow off with his thumbs. Without any reservation, she came and sat beside him, her feet tucked up on the mattress under her bum.

He lifted the lid, instantly assaulted with the smell of brand new pencils. It made him sniffle, slightly, but not cough, which was good, because it was one of his favorite scents in the world.

"Look, this lifts up." she pushed the edge up with her forefinger, showing him how the pencils lifted away to hold another row of vibrant colors. "The guy said these were the best of the best, that good art came from having good equipment. And since I know you have already amazing art, I thought I'd maybe kick your muse in the rear. I can't draw for you, but I thought, I can do this." she studied his face.

He ran his fingertips over the grain, the bright pigmented tips. Already, he could see things coming to life before his eyes, images of bright butterflies, of tall towers wrapped in creeping vines.

"Are they the good kind?" she asked.

He realized he hadn't said anything. He didn't know what to say. They were a very  _expensive_  set of pencils, were up there with the best of the best. And she'd got them 'just because'?

"Steve?"

When he managed to drag his eyes up from the pencils, she seemed concerned.

"Thank you." he said, and smiled as wide as his mouth would allow. "There are great. You're-... You're too good to me."

"No, I'm not." she said, and bumped him with her shoulder.

"You are." he looked at the box, thumbs running over the shell of the drawing implements. "These are great, Darcy."

"You like them?"

"Yeah, I do." he looked up at her, so close. His eyes dropped to her smile, then down to his hands. "I love them."

"Good." she leaned over, pressing a kiss against his cheekbone. "I'm glad." she popped up off the bed, stopping to turn in his doorway, looking at his curled up toes, the way his shoulders were hunched in cold.

He smiled at her, watching her eyes go over him, then tipped his head.

"What?" he said slowly.

"Nothing." she grinned brightly, looking every inch a devious imp. "I'll fix it. Good night, Steve."

"What're you gonna fix?" he heard her feet thud lightly against the floorboard. "Darcy?"

Then the door clicked shut, and he was left with his new pencils and not a clue what his girl was up to.

* * *

Then she got him a heavy woolen vest, thick socks, and blue scarf, things that she had to nearly force him to accept, that she didn't see him take off when he went out on the town. And he took her out as often as possible, or little picnics on her lunch break, for dinner, once he woke her up at the crack of dawn to get her up on the roof to watch the sunrise.

Steve was, in a word, perfect.

And Darcy 'Moxie' Lewis was a lot of things; strong and independent and colorful with her language, able to knock grown men on their asses and have casual discussions with very powerful men about getting her a job, but she wasn't made of stone.

She fell for Steve, and she wasn't very well versed in the ways of men, but she was almost entirely sure he fell for her too.

* * *

"Guess what?" he said, looking very much like a puppy. She came in, gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, and removed herself to go and wash the grime off her face.

"Bucky's finally found himself a steady girl and he can finally stop parading his floozies around?" she called into the sink.

"Not even close." he teased. "We're goin' out, you and me. To a picture."

"Really?" she wiped her face on the already stained towel Steve had left there for her. She grinned. "Pullin' my leg!"

"Nope." he beamed. "There was a raffle at my school and I won."

"I ain't never been." she told him.

She leaned over the sink and he kissed her mouth, smiling, easing into a relaxed pose against the door frame so she could scrub the rest of the muck off her person. He usually waited until she was at least a little bit cleaner before he made any moves, but nothing stopped him today, leaning over to kiss her jaw.

"Have I told you lately that you're beautiful?"

Whenever Steve was with the compliments, he was usually drunk. She didn't mind because - well - she was usually drunk too. But when he got like this, sober, it made her squirmy. She could'nt understand why, other than she wasn't used to it.

"Oh, quit." she said, and pressed a kiss on his mouth in the hopes he'd stop before he made her uncomfortable. "When d'you wanna go, you know, to the picture?"

"How's Saturday night?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Like you?"

She shook her head, laughing weakly as she looked into the sink.

"You're pretty charming today. What's up?"

"Nothin'." he shrugged, and beamed, stepping up beside her to sling an arm around her waist. "I just wanted my girl to know she's the best."

"Well, I ain't gonna contest that." she joked, and kissed him again.

His other hand braced her cheek, deepened the kiss, and she inhaled heavily, shutting her eyes. Typically, they didn't do this. They kissed and they held hands and they linked arms, but, they didn't do this. His tongue flicked against the seam of her mouth and she sighed, parting her lips.

Her hands, still damp but clean enough, went to his waist, pulling on his shirt until she could bunch it in her hands. He wrapped his arm around her tighter and pulled her flush against him, so tightly she could feel his breathing, the raise and fall of his chest, the dig of her handy belt between them.

"S'gotta go-" she muttered against his mouth, fumbling with the catch on the belt, before pressing more fully against him.

"Baby-" he said, and the hand holding her face trailed over her shoulder, down to the small of her back. "Can I touch you?"

"Mhm." she hummed, and shoved one of his suspenders to the side, so she could feel his collarbone, the fluttering heartbeat in his throat. "Please do."

"Gonna." he muttered, and put his mouth on her throat, which made her knees buckle, made them fall against the bathroom wall. "Gonna touch you."

His hand slid down and cupped her bum, giving a tentative squeeze. She inhaled sharply, her stance widening of her own accord, leaving Steve to step into it. At the feel of him there between her legs, she gasped, and he lifted his face to study her expression.

"Uh-" he said, eyes blue-black and mouth pink. "Am I-... Do you- like, that?"

She didn't know.

"Do it again." she said, and he squeezed her back pocket, making her heart jolt against her rib cage. "I- think - yeah. Do it again?"

He lowered his mouth to her throat, and she wished she'd worn some perfume. Or had a shower. Or had some soap. His other hand slid between the gap of her overalls and shirt and splayed against her waist, making the shirt ruck up and crease in his hand.

"Can I-?" he muttered, into her shoulder. "Touch you here?"

"Mhm." she was pulling the tails out of his trousers, and her hands were shaking. He was moving but she was moving with him, rhythmically, up and down, joined at the hips. She could feel him - there. It was so strange, to know she was wanted, and when their rhythm stuttered and he rocked forward and she came down she jolted at the very nice thing happening south of her waist.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, leaning back, not blinking as he stared, wide eyed at her face. "Not too fast?"

She shook her head, hands in scrabbling claws at his shirt.

"Come back," she said, whispered, even if they were in the apartment alone. "Come back, come back, do it again."

Her fingers went under his shirt, fleetingly over his prominent hipbones to his back, stroking over the soft skin she found there. He shuddered when she touched the knobbly parts of his spine, so she touched his ribs, dragging the pads of her fingers over them, making him rock more steadily against her.

His hand on her waist had gone under the shirt, and she was breathing quick, puffing against his shoulder - but he wasn't any better, barely mouthing at her neck while his hands searched for something she didn't know how to give up.

"Love you," he was saying, and bought his head up to kiss her mouth. "I love you."

"Love you too." she breathed, and licked his lower lip. "Steve, I- really, really love you."

"I wanna -" he swallowed, shaking slightly. "I wanna  _touch_  you."

"So touch me."

"I wanna touch you, uh-" his eyes flicked to her heaving chest, the hand on her bum squeezing so she rocked down as he came up. "Can I - can I touch you...?"

She took the his wrist and slid it up her ribs - probably just as boney, if she was honest - and against the meager padding of her bra. She was staring at him with wide eyes, sure he was maybe squeeze her boobs, and she didn't think it'd feel nice.

But what he did do was let out a breath he'd been holding, and cup his hand, using the heel of his palm to rub in a small circle, and that felt  _very nice_.

"Steve," she said, and pulled him by the neck over, hands fumbling with his buttons. "Don't stop touching me."

"Okay." he said, slightly pitched, and squeezed and rubbed. "Is it - does it feel okay?"

"Good." She said, and nibbled on his ear. "So good."

"Good." he rubbed forward and hissed and she gasped. She undid the last button and had half his shirt shoved off the arm that had no suspender on, putting her mouth on his shoulder, feeling the warmth his naked torso had to offer with a rapt sigh of pleasure. "I- Darcy - do you wanna-?"

"Wanna?" she think the noise she made was a squeak. "Wanna what?"

The door clicked shut, booted feet thudding on the floorboards. They scrambled apart, each braced against opposite sides of the door frame, both equally wide eyed as Bucky glanced over at them, then did a double take.

What he saw was Steve was trying to wrestle his shirt down the front of his trousers and hold it closed at the top, Darcy likewise shoving her shirt at the side, blinking at him like a stunned rabbit.

Steve, he noticed, was significantly more undressed, though Darcy looked like she was about to come undone.

"Aaaaaaand I'm interrupting." he said, nodding once, as if to confirm with himself. When did it become his world that Steve was getting action and he was by himself? "I'll, uh, knock, in future."

In his own apartment, goddammit.

"Guh-!" Darcy said, and shook her hands. "It's not what it looks like?"

"Yeah." Bucky said slowly, edging towards his bedroom. "Looks like you were gettin' a little handsy in the uh, bathroom. You two just... keep it down." he gave them both expressive brows, then opened his door, edged behind it, and finally cracked a grin before he shut it with a small snap.

Darcy wasn't sure what to do with herself. Did they keep going?

Did she even want to?

She looked at Steve, who had a hand covering the lower half of his face. What she could see was bright red. The mortified bug eyes peeking over his fingers made her shout a laugh, and try and cover that, but it broke the dam between them and he laughed too.

"Like you haven't caught him doin' worse." she giggled, and relaxed against the frame.

"I have," Steve promised her, and shook his head. "Not that I wanna think about it. Uh. Ugh, I'm thinkin' about it."

She snorted, shook with more laughter, then looked at him, beaming at her.

"What?" she said, brushing her hair behind her ears.

"Nothin'," he said, goofily smiling at her. "I just realized I told you I loved you."

She might've dopily smiled back.

"Yeah, and I just realized I told you I loved you too."

"Yeah." he said, and reached over to touch her face with his fingertips. "Yeah, I know."

She didn't know what to do. This whole romance, physical passion, thing, that was outta her league. But whatever they had been doing, that was nice. She liked that. The implication of that last: 'Do you wanna?' was what got the smile to fall, the eyes to widen slightly.

"Darcy?" Steve lost his smile too, stepping forward, cupping her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." she blurted, but she was suddenly very anxious not to be alone with him. She wasn't ready, not for the... other, bit, of the physical. "I uh - heh, just thought that uhm, Bucky's probably gonna think that we're -" her giggling was very pitchy.

"Oh." he said, and the smile he gave her next was very small. "Well, I'll set him straight. It's okay. You know I ain't gonna spread anything about you or have anyone thinkin' things."

"I know." she said warmly, and gave him a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I- uh - I gotta shower. Been a long day. Saturday night, we're still goin' to the pictures?"

"Sure thing." he said, and she thought she saw him deflating, so she caught his face in both hands and hauled him closer, kissing his mouth again. His shirt was still unbuttoned, and she did love the feel of his skin, so she slid a hand down his front, running over the lump in his chest.

He shivered and wrenched his head away to cough, making her hold his shirt together and rub his back until he stopped.

"Mood killer." he muttered, apologetic.

"I think the mood was a little bit dead since your room mate walked in." she teased, but saw him frown. "Oh, baby, don't worry about it. I'm sure Bucky don't mind too much."

"I do!" came from behind his door.

"Stop eavesdropping!" she shouted, and Steve buttoned up his shirt while she marched into the lounge area. "Swear to god, Barnes, you're just as bad as the old lady that lives down the hall from me, you know that?"

His door swung open, and his raised both brows, leaning one large shoulder against the frame.

"I take it by the sound o' you yellin' at me that your mouth ain't otherwise occupied," he drawled, looking positively devious. "And it's safe for me to come out."

She flushed, but tipped her head at him.

"Aw, quit glarin', babydoll, give yourself wrinkles. What you two get up to behind closed doors is your own business." he shrugged, sauntered into the kitchen, well out of her arm's length. "Until you know, I open the doors and Steve has a bedroom for a reason, geeze."

Darcy didn't have much to say to that, rolling her eyes to her fella, who was pretty wheezy, rubbing his chest. She made to get the afghan off the back of the sofa for him, but he shook his head, waved her away before she could. It was a little bit sharp, a little bit jerky, and she stilled, trying to think of what she'd done wrong.

"I- uh - my shower." she said sheepishly, and shoved her hands deep in her pockets. "And I got errands. And - oh." she saw her handy belt, lying uselessly on the floor like a dead snake, and skipped over to it, buckling it back around her waist.

"I'll see you." Steve said, with a small smile. She kissed his cheek on the way past, strolling to the door.

"I'll swing by tomorrow." she promised, and snorted at Bucky's eye roll. "Bye, Buck."

"Good riddance, harlot!" he said, as the door shut behind her.

The sound of a  _smack!_ and Bucky's : "Christ almighty, Steve, I was  _kiddin'_!" was entirely satisfying.


	8. Chapter 8

They were shoved outside, and before Darcy knew it, the guy had punched her in the back of the head. Steve, naturally, lost his temper, and flew at him with furious fists, but was knocked back quite hard.

And it had been such a nice day.

Her entire week consisted of trying not to be left alone with Steve for any serious length of time - she enlisted Bucky to play cards with them, bribed him with her whiskey, fixed their radio with single-minded determination when he was late home from work.

She thought Steve was maybe getting distant - but when he walked her home (AKA, up the stairs) they couldn't keep hands off each other, or mouths as it stood. She liked the nighttime fraternization, because she was able to say: "Good night, Steve," and lock the door behind her.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him, because she did.

But she didn't trust herself.

And sex was scary.

When Saturday night came, she was in a new navy dress, one that she'd even got fitted to her size with the help of the money Howard Stark had saved her. She still wore her same little flats because she hated heels and the only pair she owned made Steve seem even shorter.

The artist himself looked on her like she was a goddess, and sneezed at her new perfume the entire walk to the pictures.

And before the film had even started, they were in a fight with some loud mouth in front, of whom decided it would be a good idea to rag on their troops, impatient to stop the movie. Steve, of course, stood up to him, and Darcy, of course, told the guy where he could take his attitude when he spoke to her fella the way he was.

Now her head hurt.

Steve was tossed of the floor beside her, mouth bloody and hair flopping into his eyes.

Darcy was getting up, kicking her shoes off and eyeing the ripped seam between her skirt and shirt.

The man was staring at the bare skin with something she could only describe as hungry eyes, so he didn't notice when she picked up the dustbin lid Steve had been using as a shield, and sprang up, smacking it down on his head.

He bent but didn't drop, and Darcy rolled up her sleeves, ready tackle the bastard to the floor, when Bucky came in a uniform, yanking the man off kilter.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" he said, and threw him toward the mouth of the alley, kicking him in the ass for good measure.

His hat sat on a deliriously cocky angle on his head, throwing an attractive shadow over his face.

"Sometimes I think you two like getting punched." he mused, cocking a brow at them. Darcy had gone to Steve's side, already fussing at the cut on his lip.

"We had him on the ropes." Steve assured him, lifting Darcy's chin to look at where she'd hit her head on the wall.

"Baby, your lip." she murmured, and dug in her pocket, then in his, lifting a hanky to the cut.

"I'm fine." he smiled.

"And I'll have you know," she shot a cheeky look at Bucky, pulling her shoes on. "I woulda been fine if not for this damn skirt."

"Well, honey, you can't just get around in your overalls, s'much as they're loved." Bucky said, watching as they pulled each other up, before he went ahead and trapped both of them under his arms.

"Something you wanna tell us, Buck?" Darcy said dully.

"That's Sergeant Barnes to you, ma'am. Reporting for duty, here to end a war from the 107th all by myself. Ladies love a fella in uniform, right?"

"How many times do I gotta tell ya, you're not my type?" she squirmed out from under his grip to punch him in the arm.

"Hah! Don't flatter yourself. Didn't say you, I said 'ladies'." Bucky teased, and got her under his arm anyway. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much!"

"Methinks this lady's gonna black your eye." she grumped. "Hold on, I gotta tie my shoes."

"You couldn't wear heels?"

"I don't dress up for you." She scoffed at him, tying knots without looking. "Did you say the 107th, Buck?"

"Sure did, puddin'."

"You're gonna meet my daddy." she said, snickering. "And he's gonna just  _looooove_  you."

"Guess it runs in the family." he teased, and Steve rubbed his head.

"When do you go?" he prompted.

"Soon." he said, and Darcy froze, darting her gaze back to the floor. Her shoulders went rigid, and for a second, her brain to mouth filter conked out. She would've said something very dumb, if Steve hadn't of grumped:

"Where are we goin' now?"

"The future." Bucky said casually, and slapped a pamphlet on Steve's chest. "Stark's convention's in town. I gotta date that wants to go, and you two can go on an adventure with him."

"What? No. I don't want to see him, he's mouthy." Darcy tied off one shoe and shifted to do the other. "'Sides. There's nothing to say. He'll just think himself all important if I show up, anyhow."

"It couldn't hurt," Steve said, tilting his head, still nursing her hanky to his mouth. "To, ya know. See if the offer's still good."

"I'm not going." she said firmly, and stood, finding herself woozy. Steve had to step around Bucky, who'd already taken her forearm to steady her.

"Baby?" he said, holding her face. He nothing short of hip and shouldered his friend out of her way, making Bucky step back, turn his face toward the alley.

Darcy thought maybe she saw him frown, saw him bend down to pick something up, but she shut her eyes from the sudden dizziness that swept over her before she could confirm, leaning into Steve.

"Woah, ow. Okay." she rubbed the back of her head, where the guy had punched her. "I'm okay. Just dizzy."

"That creep hit you?" Bucky frowned, tucking something in his pocket.

"In the back of the head." she winced up at him. "If I hadda seen it coming-"

"He hit you with your back turned?" Bucky barked, and clenched his teeth so hard they both saw his jaw twitch.

"Yeah," she muttered. "But you chased him off, so, don't worry about it."

"Shoulda told me." he looked very serious, in his uniform. "Woulda taught him a thing about hittin' a woman."

"Yeah, I woulda helped you." Darcy said, and winced, holding onto her skull. "Ow."

Steve wrapped both arms around her, tipping his cheek to hers, giving her a quick kiss.

"Might stay home." Steve muttered. "I'll make you dinner. We can put the wireless on. Then you can wear whatever you like and not worry about shoes or puttin' your face on."

"Hm." she said shortly, and thought it over.

Letting Bucky out with a date was going to end one of two ways. He would stay out late, or he'd bring the girl home.

Either way, she'd be at home alone with Steve, with no ideas of how to fill the time, just that they would be alone with dinner and music. She straightened her head, nearly bashing into his chin.

"When do you ship out?" she asked Bucky, abruptly.

"Pretty soon."

"How soon's soon?" Steve said, rubbing her shoulder.

"Tomorrow morning." he said, and smiled slightly. "I'm England bound."

"Buck." Darcy shook her head, trying not to feel so impossibly dizzy as she did so. "I ain't gonna wander off and leave you to get into trouble your last night before you're off to war. We'll go." she said, and tucked her head down on Steve's shoulder again, rubbing the back of her head.

"Okay." Bucky said, and looked brighter for it. He put his arm around Steve - by extension Darcy, because neither of them were particularly wide over the shoulders. "Good. It'll be good to take you two out, so's I can keep an eye on you for when you're gettin' into fistfights in alleys."

"We don't need your help." Darcy muttered, and Steve chose not to say anything.

* * *

They caught the train and she drifted, and when she woke Steve had his arm around her shoulders, their temples pressed together. She stole a kiss from him and he smiled, returning it only briefly.

"S'not far." Bucky said, his arm around his own girl. They chose to stand, possibly so she could cling to his uniform. "Coupla stops. You excited, honey?"

"I heard there's a flying car," the new floozy said, batting her lashes. "So you bet your pretty hat I am."

Darcy was in danger of making her eyes pop out of her head, with how hard they rolled. Steve patted her shoulder, smiling faintly, and she kissed his chin.

She knew the girl was looking, because Steve clammed up, turned his face toward the window. It didn't stop her from pecking his marvelous cheekbone and settling down into the curve of his shoulder, wincing as her bruised head hit his bony collarbone.

"So." the floozy said. "How long've you two been together?"

"Months." Darcy said.

"Seven months." Steve said evenly. "Two weeks."

"Well, at least he won't forget your anniversary." the smile was strained. "How'd you meet?"

"I fixed their door." Darcy said with a shrug.

"Since fixed the wireless and the coffee table." Bucky input, amused. "And the lock."

"And your appalling kitchen habits." she arched a brow. "This fella doesn't know how to wash his mugs."

"I wash 'em," he defended. "When I get home from work."

"Sometimes. If I don't nag." Steve reminded him. "Or if I don't get sick of the pile up and just do it myself."

"You tell him, honey." Darcy said with a warm smile. Steve returned it, pecking her nose.

"They're so sweet!" the floozy said to Bucky, in an excited whisper that they weren't supposed to hear.

"Tell me about it." he mused, and kissed her nose the same way Darcy had Steve.

They piled off the train in their pairs, studying the map to see what there was to do. Darcy felt better than she had after the alley despite the sizable egg on her head. If she touched it, it hurt, so she just tucked her hair behind her ears and let it be.

Steve got them some popcorn they shared between them, staring up at the stage. Howard Stark was exactly as polished and fancy as she remembered him, only times ten fold in front of the audience. She was absolutely enthralled when the cars wheels folded up and away - that in itself was smooth mechanics she was already disemboweling in her head to try and figure where the wheels went, packed away.

She gasped out loud and patted Steve's hand like he wasn't paying attention when the thing lifted, hovering, and broke into an excited, loud applause. Then it sparked and dropped heavily onto the dais, and Howard flashed his devastatingly handsome smile with a wise-crack and there was yet more applause.

Darcy had no doubt, none at all, that if he could get a head start on that technology without her, that he couldn't figure it out himself eventually.

"Let's go for a walk." she suggested, and Steve agreed, dumping the empty popcorn in the trash as they wondered. Bucky and the floozy were getting cuddly behind them, snuggling up arm in arm, trying to keep their little flirtation publicly decent.

"I think you should go." Steve said, fixing his eyes forward.

"Where to?" she said, opening the pamphlet. "Motorcars exhibit? Or maybe the railroad?"

"Go and see Mr. Stark. See if he'll take you on."

"Are you gonna come with me when he does?" she returned evenly.

"I-... It's not my world, Darcy, baby. I don't know anything about - that stuff."

"You don't have to." she soothed, and stroked her fingers over his wrist. "I-... Steve, I just want to be as we are. I don't wanna change anything. What we got is good, right?"

"Yeah." he said, but didn't look at her, and sure didn't sound convincing.

"Steve?" she stopped them walking, turned to stand in his way. He looking into her eyes, his own terribly big and blue and watery, to boot. "Sweetheart?"

"You're just - you deserve the best. I can't give that to you."

"Sure you -"

"I can't." he shrugged off her arm, turning his body away, giving her his profile. "I-... I'm goin' for a walk."

"Steve?" she managed to keep from reaching out to him. Maybe they should've stayed home.

"I'm just -" he shrugged. "It's not you. I gotta walk."

"Okay." she didn't remember giving her body permission to sound so feminine. "If you want. I love you."

"I love you too." he said, and turned his back to her, ducking his head as he walked determinedly past Bucky and the floozy, hands shoved in his pockets.

"What happened?" the floozy was blinking at her widely.

"Wants me to talk to -" she looked up at Bucky, who was already nodding, understanding crossing his features. "Does he want me to go away?"

"No, doll. Hey, Val?" he pulled out his wallet, handed her some money. "Go buy somethin' sweet to nibble on, huh?"

"Sure." the floozy said, looking between them both. "Want anything?"

"World peace and good booze?" he grinned, every inch of it naughty.

Val, to her credit, just giggled and walked over to the vendor. Bucky turned back, his serious brow drawn.

"He's bought it up once since the last time." Darcy told him. "Me coming here to talk to Stark about the job. Does he - why does he want me to go off with him so bad?"

"Steve's -" he sighed, hard, and rubbed his eyes, taking off his cap to shove it under his arm and smooth back his hair. "-He's - thinkin' - that - he thinks he ain't - he's  _worried_  that you're gonna give up a real good life to hang about with him for just an okay one."

"You know, for someone university educated, he's kinda stupid." she said blankly, and Bucky chuckled. "I don't get him. I want him to come with me. Is it 'cause, you know, I'm a woman and I'd be bringin' in the money?"

"It might be." Bucky shrugged. "I thought... maybe now I'm with the army, maybe he'd go with you. If he ain't got no one to hold him back, to be his excuse." his shoulder hefted again, and he fiddled with his hat.

She stared at him, then punched his arm so hard he rocked back on his heels.

"Ow!"

"Did you join the army so that Steve would run away with me?" she demanded, fist lifted.

"Well - yeah - _Ow_!" She whacked him again, in the same spot, with more force. "Would ya cut that out?!"

"You joined the army - to make Steve - and I - run away - to-get-ther!" she punched him on every other word, until he knocked her fist aside and pulled in for a tight hug, possibly to stop her punching him without resorting to force. "I could  _kick_  you!" she seethed, but put her arms around his waist and held on.

"Now, where's the sense in sendin' me to war with a goddamn dead arm?" he grumped, and sighed.

"You could use one arm less." she bit out. "Maybe take you down a notch."

"Not true. I'm good with just one in ways most fellas ain't with two."

"Let me go so I can  _punch you again_."

"No." he grinned, all teeth, his eyes glittering. He let her lean back in his hold, so he could see the flush in her cheeks, the sad tilt to her mouth. "Wassamatter, Mox? You gonna miss me?"

"Like a goddamn hole in the head." she muttered, but squeezed his hands between hers. "You're-... Bucky, please tell me you joined for other reasons."

"Gotta right to defend my country, don't I?"

"Don't I?" she retorted, and looked at their hands, squeezing before she let go. "I'm gonna go find my fella. I just wanna go home. See you later?"

"Of course." he rubbed his arm, where she'd belted him. "Sheesh. Don't give me a break, will you?"

"Not my style." she said, a little twitch of amusement as she turned on her heel and walked away, whatever smile had been on her face all but slipping away. She looked for Steve, winding through the crowds, but between her height and his she couldn't see him anywhere.

Who she did find, instead, was Howard Stark, striding towards her.

"Hello, beautiful." he said, grabbed her face, and planted a kiss on both cheeks. She resisted temptation to crack him in the nose. "I knew you'd see reason! Now, we have a lot to do in such a little amount of time-"

"You better get those hands offa my face before I take 'em off." she said, and scowled. "I wasn't looking for you, Mr. Stark, I was lookin' for my fella."

He stopped, removed his hands, and blinked at her. People were winding around them, ogling. Howard opened his mouth, then closed it, and smiled.

"This the same one as last time?"

"Yes, as it so happens, he is. What kinda girl you take me for?" she folded her arms over her chest, ready to say goodbye and leave, when Howard put a hand on her shoulder and steered her through the mounting crowd. "Mr. Stark?"

"Hang on, sugar, we'll go somewhere private."

"That doesn't sound like anything I wanna do-"

"Ah, c'mon. Let's chat. Then I can find your fella for you, hm?"

The man strode ahead and unlocked what appeared to be the janitorial door through the exhibit, able to peer through the gaps to see people staring, talking, laughing, chewing on popcorn. Darcy allowed him to lead her through, because he was obviously familiar and she could hardly see.

When they came through, they appeared to be in the medical wing, where people were able to go through their checkups and assigned to the army. Stark closed the curtain, as though that would give them privacy, and motioned for her to sit.

"Think I'll stand. I won't be here long."

"The offer," he directed at her with a big grin, perching on the bed. "Still stands. He can still come along, dollface, you two can still-"

"Mr. Stark." she said, with a patient tone that did not correctly surmise how she felt. "I'm still not here to become your apprentice."

"Oh." he sagged, wriggled his mustache. "Why not?"

"Because Steve doesn't want to come with me." she shrugged her shoulder.

He made a short noise. Then: "Did you see the show?"

"Yes." she said, and could feel the excited smile wind up on her face.

"What'd you think?"

She chewed her lip for a second, before:

"I've never seen anything like that flying car before. It was amazing."

"What'd you think of the rest?" he waved his hand.

"The mechanical retraction of the wheels?" she straightened her back. "You've got it on a wireless system?"

"Sure do." he grinned. "You could learn it, honey, anything you liked. You could learn how it works."

"Oh, I know radio waves." With enthusiasm, she described the system between the trigger and the receiver, making Stark's eyebrows raise steadily the more she went on, his mouth curling into an impressed smile behind the mustache. When she stopped for breath, she realized she'd been prattling, and swallowed. "Sorry. Got on a tangin."

Mr. Stark just beamed.

"Do you see what I mean? You reverse engineer things and  _understand them_. Do you know what that makes you?"

"No?"

"Brilliant. It makes you brilliant. By yourself, you're a - well, dollface, you're impressive. Imagine what a little bit of training could do to your brain."

She blinked at him.

"It's just simple." she said, voice small, and ducked her eyes to her wrist, despite the fact that she wasn't wearing a watch. "Oh, look at the time! Must be getting on. So nice to see you again, Mr. Stark-"

"Darcy-"

"Moxie, to you." she said, and fixed him with a look. "Nothing you say will make me want to go away. I've made up my mind."

"I'll name my next car after you." he said, fluttering his lashes. "People would love it. The  _Moxie_."

"No." she mused, and stuck her hand out to shake his. "Sorry to run off. But I think my fella's up to some kind of stupid, and that's just not fair if I'm not present."

"They don't make 'em like you in the city," Howard said, clapping her shoulder. "Let me show you out."

* * *

It didn't occur to her she'd never mentioned to him that she was a country girl.

* * *

When she found Steve, he was in a daze, wondering around with his hands still in his pockets, and his tie askew. She fixed it for him in greeting, and pressed a warm kiss to his mouth.

"You alright?" she said softly, and melted when he kissed her back and agreed, winding an arm around her waist. "What happened? What's going on in here, huh?" she tapped his skull.

He kissed her cheek, held her hands.

"Just thinkin'." he said, and his eyes flicked momentarily to the mouth of the tent where a man in a lab coat stood, and Howard Stark beside him. Stark fluttered his fingers at her, and she rolled her eyes, turning them both to the tent.

"You think too much." she scolded mildly, and linked their arms. "Seen Buck? I sent him out to look for you."

"Yeah." he swallowed. "He, uh... We had a bit of a..."

"Did you two fight?"

"Not really. Got a bit heated. He - called me out. On wantin' to join the army. Said I had nothin' to prove."

"You don't."

"I got everything to prove." he said quietly, and looked at her from under his lashes. "I got someone to fight for."

She sighed, put her cheek to his shoulder, let him kiss the top of her head.

"I love you Steve, but you can be a dummy." she said, and hugged his arm tighter. "How about we go home and I make you somethin' to eat? I promise I won't even burn it, this time."

"If you think so." he said quietly, and laughed when she dug her elbow into his ribs.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so reviewers got me while I was replying to comments, and I felt obligated to post again. 
> 
> IN ADDITION, chamberlinofmusic is in trouble with me for making me write like, 12 thousand words in the sequel today. My brain hurts. But thanks to the lovely human aforementioned, there's at least an extra 12 thousand words in the sequel I didn't have before, so kudos. ;)
> 
> Can I just say, this is one of my favorite chapters?  
> (Not the ending, so much, but... Read on, you'll see what I mean.)

"Hey." Bucky said roughly, squinting. He had on a long sleeved undershirt, some flannel sleep pants. "Everything alright?"

No.

"Yeah." she turned on the sofa, away from the radio in her hands with a wince. "Sorry, Buck, go back to sleep."

"Nah, I was 'wake anyway." He was not, one side of his hair sticking straight out. He padded over to the sofa, taking a seat, rubbing his eyes with half curled fists. She should've known she'd wake him, because the light she'd clicked on was right outside his room.

"Buck, you gotta get up early tomorrow." she whispered.

"Technically, later today."

He had to get on a train and go to war. The thought made her want to part the couch cushions and hide him in them, never let him out. A prisoner of pre-war.

"Go back to bed," she urged. "And go to sleep."

"What's up?" he scrubbed his face, trying to make himself wake up a little more. "Don't tell me there ain't nothin', I know somethin' is wrong."

She considered his face, the bleary, barely open eyes trying to focus on her person. Such a sweetheart, under all his cockiness.

They'd let her stay the night after too much boozing and a late game of cards. Even if she only had to walk up the flight of stairs, Bucky handed over some of his jammies and she had huddled up on the couch, but hadn't been able to do much but drift and fret.

Which is why she was fiddling with the third radio on their coffee table.

"It can wait," she said kindly. "C'mon. You're exhausted."

"I'm concerned, is what I am." he blinked, sniffed, relaxed back in the sofa, rubbing his arms. She stood, bringing her blanket, dumping half on him before curling up on the couch beside him. He looked at the blanket for a long second, thinking, then smirked and covered himself with it. She leaned her head to the cushion and pulled the cover up to her chin, legs bent to her chest.

"Alright, lady. Don't make me drag it outta you. What's goin' on?"

She only waited a beat.

"I'm terrified." she confided in a whisper.

"What of?" his brow came down. He seemed to wake up more. "Someone do somethin' to you?"

"You know I got a handle on that stuff."

"Jus' checkin'. Not much gets under your skin, is all." he tipped his head against the couch, focusing. "Someone say somethin'?"

She shook her head, blinking rapidly.

"Bucky, it's just... I think I love you, a little bit."

"You're only human." he shrugged.

She kicked him under the blanket.

"Not that kind of love, jerk."

He cocked a sleepy grin.

"Your love for me shouldn't keep you up at night, babydoll. Not if I ain't there."

"You're goin' the right way for a broke nose, Barnes."

He just chuckled, easing into the sofa.

"You ain't gonna wound me 'fore I go off to war, are you? Come on, now. Tell me what's got you up. You only get twitchy-" he nodded to the mutilated radio. "- when you're thinkin' too much."

She chewed her lip, looked at him seriously.

"I'm scared-" her voice unexpectedly cracked. She hadn't meant it to. "You're going to go off to war and never come back. I'm  _scared_  - I'm... I'm gonna lose you. We're gonna lose you, me 'n' Steve."

His expression softened completely.

"Don't cry, babydoll," his hand came up to brace her cheek, thumb swiping under her eyes. She didn't recall allowing her tears to fall. "I can't stand to see a pretty dame cry over me."

"Callin' me pretty?" she teased.

"The prettiest." he smiled, urged her head to his shoulder, angling her to rest against him, to which she gratefully sagged, arm looping around his waist. He patted her head, hushed her gently, and she maybe, just a little bit, curled closer towards him, tucked up in his arms.

"I don't want you to go." she whispered, holding onto his shirt like she could keep him anchored there by force.

"Well, whatta they say about distance and making hearts grow fonder?" he tried to be casual, tried to make a joke of it.

"Don't be stupid, Bucky, it doesn't suit you."

He sighed, something she felt more than heard, his chest expanding under her cheek, and dropped his lips to her forehead, lingering with a kiss.

"I have to go." he said softly. "To fight for you and Steve."

"You don't have to do anything." she lifted her face up, but kept her ear pressed firmly against his chest, listening to the hammer of his heartbeat. "Fight for us  _here_. God knows we get into enough trouble with you, let alone without."

His smile was faint. He kissed her forehead again, touched his nose to hers.

"I ain't never had a dame as a friend before," he murmured. "Ain't never wanted one. But all I know is that now I got you, I just wanna look after you."

"Then stay." she hid her eyes from him, starting to cry more persistently against his chest. "I don't wanna lose you, Buck."

"You won't. Not ever. Not even if you wanted me gone, could you get rid of me. You got me 'till the end of the line." he squeezed her with his arms, cementing the notion. "I love you a little bit too, Mox. Don't you ever forget that."

"Better keep that on the down low from your floozies." she sniffed, tried to contain herself, but found that her eyes wouldn't stop leaking everywhere.

"Ah, what's a coupla girls? You're important. You're my friend first, before them." He put his cheek to her head, rubbed her back, and held her close. "But if you, uh, wouldn't mind, maybe, not bringin' up bein' all girly with you, it'd be 'ppriciated."

"You're a jerk." she muttered, and hugged him tighter. "You're lucky I ain't gonna punch you."

"I realize that."

They were both asleep within minutes.

* * *

When Steve crept through the lounge, he fully expected to see Darcy on the sofa, cuddled up in dreams he left her in. He was gonna lay down with her for a while, maybe draw shapes onto her back, wake her up slowly before Bucky got up and clunked around.

But she wasn't there, the blankets weren't there. He frowned, looked around. Had she left in the night? That was weird.

But a small grunt and feminine mumble made him jolt, skip backwards into his room, leaving the door open just a crack.

"Buck?"

"Hm?"

"You've gotta get up."

"Mm."

"Steve's gonna wake up any second..."

"So? Let him come."

"And see us like this?"

Bucky made a long groaning noise.

"Woman. I'm  _sleeping_."

"You have to go and defend our country's honor. You were the one that signed up. If you wanna pull out, it's illegal, but Steve's pretty handy with a pen and I'll put you in a dress to keep you hidden. Is that what you want?"

"...M' comfy."

"I know. Me too."

Steve peered out from the crack, saw Bucky's arms stretching above his head, Darcy's nest lift from between them. He saw her sleepy smile, one of Bucky's hands come down on the springy mess of hair and attempt to smooth it out.

She laughed, joined in the effort. Bucky sat, rubbing the side of his neck, yawning wide.

"You got a chest like a rock."

"You drooled on me." he plucked at the front of his shirt. "So I guess I ain't that hard, huh?"

"I'm glad you ain't any kind of hard." she retorted, and he barked a laugh, smacking his hand over his mouth to try and dull it. "Coffee?" she said, getting to her feet.

He caught her hand, halting her movement, looking up. Steve could see his profile - the straight nose, strong jaw. Of course she found him attractive, he was artistically perfect. And he didn't cough everywhere when he was cold. And he had muscles, and made funny jokes, and always knew what to say.

"About last night," he said warmly. "You know I ain't just sayin' it. I do kinda love you, a bit."

"Me too. Just a bit." she reached over to shove his head fondly. "Now, get your ass up offa that couch and go get in your pretty war clothes."

Steve was feeling like he was going to have an asthma attack. She had always looked at him differently than how she looked at Bucky. He thought - stupid him - he had thought it was because she saw him, because she loved him.

She'd kissed Bucky, for Christ' sake. How stupid was he to think that he could ever compete with him? He had wide shoulders, big arms. He had nice hair and he could knock a fella down, and get up and down the stairs without having to pause to wheeze.

Steve wasn't just a shadow behind him, he was the dirt that Bucky's shadow lay on.

He knew it, had seen it coming, seen it coming miles away, but to pretend for a while had just been so nice. They were so close. He knew it, knew she was too perfect for him, had no idea why she would stick around, but of course - she was around for Bucky.

The more he thought about it, the colder he felt; he'd seen their first kiss, heard her confess no one liked her, that she couldn't afford to be sweet on anyone.

And didn't he know those exact feelings?

He dove back into the squeaky bed and pulled the covers up to his nose, shutting his eyes tight, trying to keep out the cold, the bite of ice on his chest.

Didn't he know what it meant to take what he could get? To be happy for it? He wasn't angry, and he didn't hate her. He hated that he  _understood_. He hated that he wasn't angry. He hated that he still loved her, and ached, because she'd never be his. He pulled the blankets over his head like he could stop his thoughts from swirling.

He was ultimately happy. How could he not be? Now Bucky could stop parading his floozies through the apartment, like Darcy had always complained about, and Darcy could have the man she deserved, like Steve always complained about, and they could be happy together.

Soft footsteps came over to his door, and there was a tap, so he held his breath.

"Steve? Steve, honey?" She would look at him like a brother, at best. Of course she loved Bucky. Of course she cuddled up on the couch with Bucky at night, slept with her head on his chest. Of course she did, because if she tried with him, he'd probably break under the strain. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah?" he lifted his head from the pillow.

"Good morning, sleepy head." she was smiling at him with that warmth, nearly glowing.

"Good morning." he scrubbed his eyes for good measure. "Am I late?"

"Nope. I'm making coffee. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Oh, that's okay, I'll get something on the way to school."

"No, baby." she showed all her teeth in a big grin. "No school today. It's sunday."

He had forgotten. It made him feel pale, feel cold, feel selfish, and he chuckled, rubbing his face.

"I'm not awake." he said into his hand, and listened to her laugh.

"I got some eggs in my apartment. Want 'em?"

How could she love him, when she was perfect? Dark hair, fair skin, sweetheart lips, a killer figure once she ate a little more. She was physically - artistically - perfect. They deserved each other. He'd be happy if they treated each other well - if they were happy.

He smiled.

"Oh, alright then."

"Good. Gotta feed my fellas." she left the door open, and he heard the bathroom shut behind her and her footsteps as she got dressed and left.

He laid back down and closed his eyes, hands folded on his chest like he was going in the box for his funeral.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there is a development concerning Darcy here, and it's going to make sense, I promise.  
> Also, I've now gone through and edited all the chapters in the story, so I know its 23 chapters long, just, FYI. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for all the comments, everyone is awesome!!  
> x

"You come back," she warned Bucky, grabbing hold of his lapel and bringing him down to her level. "You hear me? Or I'm goin' in after you, and I'll drag you out by your goddamn ear. You hear me, Barnes?"

The train tooted. Someone shouted about last calls. Nearby, a woman with a baby in her arms was sobbing, while her fella hugged her tight and kissed their baby's head.

"Yes, ma'am." Bucky said, amused, and scooped her to his chest.

Steve pretended not to see that as soon as she had her chin tucked over his shoulder, her expression fell, and lip trembled. By the time she withdrew, she had an eyebrow cocked, composure in place.

"And don't get no dame pregnant, or you deal with me." she said, and punched his arm for good measure.

"Jesus, ruin all my fun." he rolled his eyes, bought Steve in for a quick hug, with many a manly back pat. "Look after her."

"I think she can look after herself." Steve muttered, but it only made Darcy grin at him. "But I'll keep an eye on her anyways."

"Good." he fixed his cap into a lopsided tilt, looking at them both with a shit-eating grin, then saluted and hopped aboard the train. He squeezed his way to a window, sticking his arm out to wave, the watch Darcy had given him for his birthday flashing on his wrist.

Darcy just rolled her eyes when he blew them a kiss, pretending to catch it and tuck it in her pocket. They saw him laugh, the wave becoming more and more frenzied as the train pulled away with a loud groan of heavy wheels.

Darcy waved and waved, right until the train was swallowed up by the shadows of a tunnel. Steve didn't know what happened, because one second she was fine, smiling, then wrapped around him with her face against his neck, and hot tears spilling into his shirt.

"Darcy?" he said, arms already winding around her waist.

She trembled all over, but didn't make a sound.

"Baby?" he held the back of her head, feeling her full body flinch as he accidentally found the lump on her skull where the guy had hit her the day prior.

It took her a minute, but she relaxed against him, pressing an apologetic kiss against his throat before standing, and wiping under her eyes. She dug around in her pocket and pulled out a hanky, blotting at her face, before she said, very quietly:

"I love you." her eyes were very green, ringed in red as they were. "Steve, I really love you."

He swallowed.

"I love you too, baby. Let's go home."

* * *

"Steve?" He looked up from the drawing pad that he'd yet to mark with a single line. God, even in her overalls and smeared with grease, she was pretty. Her hair was getting so long, in barrel curls at the small of her back, the front smoothed out of the way behind her ears. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." he smiled quickly. "Yeah, it's fine. Just... y'know. Thinking."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"No, no. It's okay, just, you know. Homework. Actually-" he shut the book, rubbed his knees. "I'm gonna go for a walk. Clear my head. I just need to think."

"You got it." she said, though she was frowning slightly. "Take your time."

He bent to press a kiss on her hairline, only meaning for it to be a quick goodbye, but he lingered longer than expected and it made her touch his cheek and keep him anchored.

"Hey." she said, roughly. "Don't be sad. He's gonna come back soon, isn't he?"

"Sure." he said, and leaned away. "Be back in a bit, baby. Need anything?"

"Just you." she said warmly, and kissed him again.

* * *

"I'm in the army!" She stared at him, smile going slack. "They accepted me, Darcy! I can go, I can fight!" he was nearly jumping, hands on her shoulders.

She just stared at him, blinking stupidly.

"Say something!" he said brightly.

"Congratulations." but it was so dull, so blank.

" _Darcy_ ," he said, and shook her a little, beaming. "They accepted me. I can go and fight."

She swallowed, a small, wobbly smile on her mouth.

Then she framed his face with both hands, and pulled him in for a kiss.

At first, he didn't know what she was doing. When her mouth sucked at his lower lip, he let a breath go, eyes fluttering shut. His hands automatically slid from shoulders to the small of her back, and she sighed, changing the angle of the kiss.

She dragged her hands over his chest, slipping them under his arms to brace against his back, pulling him closer. His head was spinning from lack of air, and even if he would've kept kissing her until he passed out, she broke it, leaning her forehead down on his shoulder.

He couldn't stop from kissing her cheek, then the side of her neck.

"Show me the transcript?" she said, and he dug it out of his pocket, showing it to her with a grin. She scanned it, then looked up at him with arched brows. "You're twenty six?"

"Yeah. Didn't you know that?" he tipped his head at her, watched her blink slowly at him, then the page, reading. "Darcy?"

"I didn't know you were twenty six." she sounded strangled. "I- thought you were younger."

"Yeah," he scrubbed the back of his neck. "I get that a lot. Say, that reminds me - how old are you?"

"Well," her voice pitched. "I'm not twenty six, that's for damn sure." she handed back the paper, stepped around him, and went to the door, yanking it open.

"Darce?" he charged out of there so fast he didn't even shut the door. "Baby-?"

"Two of my brothers were killed in action." she said, turning with pitched brows. "And a week ago, my ma wrote me to tell me that one of my other brothers is put up in a hospital in the middle of some windy shit-hole we ain't never heard of, with no legs from the knee down. Stood on a goddamn land mine. He's gonna die too. His blood's infected."

He went pale, reached for her, but she shook her head and wrenched back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said softly.

She shrugged, but it was more an aggravated twitch than anything.

"Got the KIA notice a month after we started goin' together. It was too heavy to put on you. And then when I got ma's letter, and I was gonna say somethin' but then Bucky was goin' and I didn't want to think about it, didn't want to put those two things together. I as good as lost three brothers to this war, and I _just_  sent another one off. I don't want -..." she swallowed. "I thought you were safe to fall in love with, but now you're gonna leave me too."

He recoiled.

"'Safe to fall in love with'." he repeated slowly. "Because you didn't think they'd accept me in the army, cuz I'm a little guy?"

She froze, and he knew it to be truth.

They stared at each other for a long second.

"I love you." she said thickly, and he was startled to realize that that was true as well. 

Everything with Bucky was a horrible twist in his brain, a happenstance of being sickly and inferior and living with the physically supreme. But she loved him, she did, he knew it in that second better than he knew his own self - he knew that instead of doubting himself he should've trusted her, and felt like a moron. He opened his arms and only managed a step forward before she crashed into him, nearly sending him to the floor.

"I love you too," he told her. "I'm sorry - I - it just made sense. It - I should be able to fight, Darce, it - it's not fair that other men are dyin' and I don't get the right-"

"I love you,  _I love you_."

"I love you too." he hugged her as tightly as he could. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Please don't go." she said, very small, against his shoulder.

"I gotta, honey." he said, and petted her soft, springy curls.

"You don't." she muttered, but tucked her face against him and let him hold her still, for the longest moment. Then she sighed, exhaled, and kissed the hinge of his jaw. "I'll be back. I need time."

He swallowed.

"Okay." he said, very muted.

"I'm coming back." she informed him, squeezing his hands. "I'm coming back to you. And I'm staying the night."

"Okay." because he wasn't going to tell her 'no'.

* * *

Steve saw the look on her face, and knew that something bad was probably about to happen. His hands bracketed her face, lifted her eyes to his.

"What's wrong?"

"I-... I want you to know-" she put her hand on his. "I'm not proving a point, and I'm not... I'm not doing this to hurt you. I just-..." she lifted her hand.

"Please try not to be angry with me, Steve."

Then she took out a neatly folded piece of paper from her pocket, slid it onto the counter, and walked into his room.

He opened it with shaking hands, wiping it flat against the counter top. It was Darcy's transcript papers - she was accepted into the war by the same office that took in Steve. That's what she'd been looking for, when she took his papers. While he was there, he read her real name.

"Darcy Rose Lewis," he muttered, and frowned at the birth year. Didn't she say she wasn't twenty six? "Rose." he tasted the name on his tongue, but it didn't suit her, not like Moxie, or Darcy did. He folded it up, took in several deep breaths to try and slow his heartbeat, and knocked on his own door before entering.

"I'm not angry." he said calmly, and came to sit beside her. "I'm... Scared."

"Join the club."

"Is this what you felt when Bucky joined?"

"Just about." she turned her head to look at him. "Worse when you did."

"Huh." he bumped her shoulder with his. "I get it now."

She swallowed, reached out for the hand he instantly took, pressed to his mouth.

"And you're not angry?"

"A little confused." he sighed. "How did they let you in?"

She flushed.

"Dr. Erskine recognized me from what Mr. Stark had said. He wants to try me with his fancy medicine."

"So you're in this special program too." he nodded, and swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know you're built tough, baby, I know that. And I know you're smart - don't know any one smarter - but it's war." he looked at her, blue eyes wide.

"People die everyday, and it don't have to be fair or right, and it doesn't matter if you're fast or strong, coz bullets are faster and stronger."

"You're telling me." she said with a weak smile. "I made 'em for a living, remember?"

"I know." he reached out, touched her cheek. "I know."

It might've been him. It might've been her. But they crashed together and he had just reached down to cup her chest when he remembered the age on her form, wishing he could just think about the way she was under him. He lifted his hand to her face, much to her disappointment.

"On the form," he said, panting heavily. "You said you were twenty six. Is that true?"

She had been flushed before, but now she went impossibly red, and shut her eyes, reaching up to pull one of his pillows over her face. With a reaction like that, he wouldn't stop pestering until she was peeking out from behind it, a big grin on his face.

"If you're older than me, it's okay." he mused, and chased her mouth with kisses until she was giggling and squirming. "I don't mind dating an older lady... ma'am."

She smacked his side, so he rolled off her and propped up on his elbow, tracing the shape of her face with his fingertips.

"I-... Don't want you to... I don't want it to change, anything." she said, and gulped, looking at him with big eyes. "I'm not older, lemme tell you."

"You're twenty... four?" he guessed. She shook her head. "Twenty two? Twenty?... Nineteen? Eighteen...?" he blinked at her, sat up.

"Seventeen?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Darcy-" his mouth was open. "Are you  _seventeen_?!"

"It's not a big deal," she said, and blinked. "Is it?"

"You're - not even legal to go to war!"

"So?"

"S-! So!" he just gaped. "You moved from some farm in the South to Brooklyn and got a job and lived by yourself?!"

"Yeah." she shrugged, propping up on her elbows. She still seemed sheepish, smoothing back her hair. "Well, uh, Buck asked me if I was new to the area. I'd only been here for about three weeks when we met."

Steve covered his face with both hands.

"I-... I can't believe I didn't know that."

"Does that change something?" she said, voice pitching.

He took a moment to think about it.

"I'm not gonna tell on you to the army." he said slowly. "You'll get in a lotta trouble for lyin' on your papers. I don't even wanna know how you forged that."

She was staring at him.

"Never mind the damn army. I'm talking about between us, Steve. Does my age change anything between us?"

The answer, in honesty, was yes. Yes, it changed something. He was suddenly very eager to have her in her own apartment, off his bed. Was it any wonder she'd stuck to him and Bucky?

She was so young.

And on her own.

"How did your mother let you go?"

"My mother has never had a handle on me." she scoffed. "I told her I was gonna leave and I did and there was nothin' she could've done to stop me. The only one who I ever listened to was my daddy, and he decided to go to war, so. Here I am."

"Jesus, Darcy..." he looked at his hands.

"Do-... Do you hate me?"

"What? No. No, I don't hate you."

"But this changes something, doesn't it?"

"I just-" he looked at her, reached out and took her hand. "I've been takin' advantage."

"Steve, you really haven't. If anything, I took advantage of you - I mean, I thought you were more my age than  _twenty six_."

"Don't say it like I'm ancient." he scowled halfheartedly. 

"Well don't say seventeen like I'm a baby. And besides, you couldn't take advantage of me if I didn't want you to." she reached out and cupped her hand around his face. "But you don't want me any more, do you?"

"Of course I still love you-"

"Want me, Steve." she took his hand and put it on her chest. "Do you  _want_ me?"

"I-" unfortunately, he'd wanted her for months. That didn't change, the longer he looked at her trussed hair, the swollen sweetheart shape of her mouth, the pull of buttons across the ample chest, he realized that hadn't changed not one bit. "When's your birthday?"

"Coupla months." she leaned into his hand and he stopped thinking for a second, his brain totally shutting down to how soft and willing she was. Then he shook his head, removed his hand, and thought: _Of course she was soft and willing, she's seventeen_.

"Coupla months." he muttered, and rubbed both hands on his jeans, over his knees, trying not to think about her skin. He tried to rub the feeling of her body away from his palms. "Well, we're just gonna wait a coupla months, then."

"What? Why?"

"Because-..." Eighteen sounded better, somehow. There was nine years between them, good god. "God, I was nine years old when you were born."

"Yeah, and I was handling guns when you were getting your first job." she grumbled, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm not a child."

"I know that."

"Well stop acting like I'm a child. You haven't - been putting your hands on a child, okay?" she got off the bed. "I knew this was bad. I knew I shouldn't have told you. I didn't - Steve, I just couldn't..."

He caught her hand, looking up at her from under his eyelashes.

"I still love you, sweetheart." he murmured. "This only changes things a little. I still love you, honey, but I'm not gonna - we're not gonna -"

"Have sex." she said, and he flushed, but nodded, linking their fingers. "Well, what if I wanna?"

"Not until your birthday." he said firmly. "I still wanna kiss you, Darcy. I still wanna hold you to me and touch you and I want you, don't get me wrong. I just... wanna wait, a little bit."

She was smiling a little, as she reached out to touch his face.

"I don't think I was ready, anyway." she said quietly. "I-...was kinda distant, recently. That was why."

"Oh." that made sense, rather than her growing attracted to his best friend and wanting to leave him to be with Bucky. "I thought - well. I thought it had more to do with... you not wanting me."

"I do, though." she said, eagerly putting her hands on his hair, pushing back his flop of bangs. She bent and pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering with a sigh by his ear. "I want you, Steve. I only want you, for my first. Only. Whatever."

He chuckled, buried his face in her shoulder, inhaling her particular smell.

"But we're gonna wait." he said. "Until your birthday. When is that, again?"

"Tomorrow?"

He admired the attempt.

* * *

When she woke up Steve had pulled on long sleeves and was sitting on the free couch, elbows on his knees, head turned to look at her. She guessed, by the dawn light outside, that if he'd slept at all, it hadn't been for long.

"Wassamatter?" she lifted her head, arm reaching for him. He patted the back of her hand, running a soft thumb over her knuckles. "Cold?"

"I don't want you to go." he said evenly. She saw her papers in his other hand. "Don't go."

"Huh?" she lifted up onto her elbow, making the covers fall over her shoulder. She was decent, but barely, with Steve's eyes trained on her face.

"Don't go through this with me." he said softly. "I know it's unfair. I know I shouldn't say it. But you're my girl. And I don't want you to go."

She blinked away the sleep.

"You don't go." she replied, every inch fair and reasonable. "And I won't."

His smile was very small, very sad.

"I thought you'd say that." he looked at the paper in his hand, and put it down on the table beside the bed, and turned to face her more fully, putting her hand on his leg, eclipsing it with both of his. "I thought about it. Runnin' off with you. I can forge papers. You know the works of a farm - we could get a little place together where no one'll come lookin'. Some chickens and a horse."

"The hay would make your allergies play up." she said, almost immediately.

"Yeah." he ducked his head, smiling. "You thought about it too, huh?"

"I think about it all the time." she admitted quietly. "I never thought about, I dunno, husbands, or kids, or a family of my own. But I think about it with you."

"Do you wanna get married?" he pitched his brows. "Before we go? We can get married."

"My mama would kill me if I got married without her bein' there. She's got one daughter outta seven kids..."

"Yeah." he put his eyes back down. "Yeah, you're right. And I should probably wait, a lil', to ask your daddy, huh?"

"If you think so." she said, very amused, fluffing up her cushion to lean heavily against it. She dragged the covers up to her chin, and Steve patted them down over her arm. "My daddy would probably think you're pullin' his leg. He's spent my whole life tryna make sure I'm undesirable as possible."

"Well he failed." he said, and looked her in the eye. "I know there isn't anything that I can say that'll make you not go."

"So don't try." she said evenly, and opened the front of the blankets. "Get in here with me, would ya? S'cold in here."

For a second - a split second - he hesitated.

"Just for a cuddle." he said, blushing.

"Just a cuddle." she agreed, very seriously.

He sighed and climbed onto the sofa with her, fitting their legs together and wrapping his arm over her waist, trailing his nails over her back. They were nose-to-nose, breathing in each other's air, almost instantly warmer. He kissed her cheek.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

He barely brushed his mouth against her mouth for a reply. Her hand rubbed his bony chest, ran up to his collar bone.

"Thinkin'." he said softly.

"What about?"

"Just... how I ended up with you... And then I get selected for this program and... now I gotta go. You're perfect, Darcy Rose Lewis." she blushed heavily at the use of her real name, and attempted to bury her face under his neck. "I don't understand what you want with me. You should be with someone like Bucky, some one who can take care of you, can make you happy-"

"I take care of myself." she told him softly. "And you make me happy. You make me  _giddy,_ I'm so happy. And I'm so lucky to have you all to myself. Call me greedy."

"You're greedy." he murmured, and she felt his fingers, so gentle and hesitant, tip her face upwards, draw her out from her hiding place. "You're my greedy girl."

"And don't you forget it." she muttered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to leave this here.  
> Don't hate me.
> 
> ;)

She felt strong, in her uniform. The thick boots, the rough army green trousers. They sagged in certain areas in the front and pulled tight particularly in the back, but the coat and belt and little hat made her feel strong. Capeable. She could do this.

"Who'd you sleep with to get into the army, then?"

Twenty three minutes. It only took someone twenty three minutes to imply she'd opened her legs to get where she was. She was kind of impressed he'd held out that long, to be honest; but he was one of the last men they'd picked up on their way to camp.

The rest of the men all looked at her, and Steve. Steve because he was significantly tinier than the lot of them, and her because she was distinctly female, even without her makeup and hair in a braid that she'd tucked down her shirt.

She ignored him. Steve inflated.

"Whatchit." he said between his teeth.

The guy snorted.

"What, so you two are goin' together? Figures."

"I thought this was a special program for super soliders. Not a pity date for two shrimp."

Darcy clamped her hand down on Steve's leg as he tried to stand. They were in the back of a bus; he would be out numbered ten to two, advantage to the masses purely together because they agreed.

"War's no place for a dame." said another guy, down the end of the truck, sounding quite solemn. "It ain't right."

"Your goddamn face ain't right." Darcy spat back out at him, and lifted her chin.

"No, that little prick sittin' at your side ain't right. I seen kittens bigger'n him."

"Lemme tell you somethin'," Darcy said, actively struggling to hold Steve back with one hand. "Might look like a kitten, but he's hung like a horse. Take it from a farm girl, and shut your mouth."

There was abrupt, shocked, silence.

Then someone roared with laughter, and a few men joined. The man across from them - the loudmouth - he sneered.

"You can have your one trick pony, there. I wouldn't give _you_  to my dog."

"That's-!" Steve snapped, popping out of his chair, just in time for the vehicle to stop moving and him to be pitched to the side, half landing on Darcy's legs.

The man grawffed, shoved Steve down as he stood, and trundled out of the van.

* * *

She knew she'd like Peggy Carter the same second she knocked Barry on his ass with a single punch. A side ways look at Steve confirmed that he liked her too, if the smirk was any indication.

That night at mess, they sat across from each other, at the end of the tent, heads bent low.

"Peggy said I had a place to sleep down the end of her tent." she told him quietly. "Said she didn't trust the men."

"I don't trust the men." Steve said hotly.

"Neither do I. I'm not arguing." she said, and briefly patted his hand, before tearing apart her bread roll and swiping it through the butter left from her beans. "I already said thank-you and yes please."

"Did you tell her what happened this morning?"

"No. And I'm not gonna. I think she's well aware of the kinda shit that goes on, sweetheart." she cast a look around the room, thoughtfully chewing her bread.

"Yeah." Steve fiddled with his fork, managed to eat some of the boiled carrots. "I-... I'm not sure how we're gonna do in training."

"How so?" she said, around her mouthful.

"Well, you're kinda- not that it's a bad thing, baby, but you're- built." he motioned across his arms. "From workin' the tin."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, I'm- not." he looked at his tray. "You're gonna be faster'n stronger by miles."

"I dunno 'bout miles, Steve."

"I do." he looked at her with his very expressive blue eyes, tilting his head. "And I don't want you to lag behind for me, or throw things, to keep my pace. You gotta do your best, okay? Otherwise-" he pressed on, even if she opened her mouth to speak.

"-The way these guys are, honey, you gotta do your best, for you, or they're gonna think that they can take a shot. I know you can handle it if they try, baby. I know that. But, just - for me. Do the best you can."

She chewed, chewed and swallowed, then ducked her head.

"I'll do it for you." she muttered. "But I'm not gonna let you get beat on. Someone gives you trouble, I'm not gonna get angry, I'm gonna get even. Got - had - six older brothers. I can make a man hurt without him knowin' who done what."

He gave her a very small smile.

"Your accent gets real heavy when you're mad, did you know that?"

She scowled at him playfully.

"What're you sayin'?" she said, in a very heavy, country drawl.

"I'm sayin' my girl's from the country and she sounds more 'n' more like it when she's mad." he mused, and made her laugh into her tray. The sound of the feminine chortle made the mess go quiet, heads swivel around to look in their direction.

They studiously picked apart their food, smiling like fools.

When the noise picked up again, Steve leaned back over the table, still taking the trouble to drop his voice.

"You said you made a deal with Dr. Erskine to get into the program." he reminded her. "What was it?"

She took a drink from her cup, savoring the water.

"That - when everything was said and done - I'd help him with the replication of the serum 'n' machine. He said that, once he had it all done correctly, that he'd need people to help him build more. People that he trusted." she shrugged. "Stark's talked me up. He seemed to think that I could reverse engineer whatever he'd done."

"Reverse engineer?" Steve repeated.

She looked at her disappointingly empty tray.

"When I pull stuff apart," she told it. "Like the radios - I can put it back together in my head, see what goes where, how things work. Apparently normal people don't do that. Not sure if I could build somethin' by myself without having seen it done first, but Dr. Erskine said it wouldn't be necessary. I'd work with the finalized product."

"Huh." Steve lifted his glass to his mouth. "My girl's a certified smarty-pants."

She would've liked to have laughed it off, explain that there was hardly any genius in pulling things apart and seeing how a thing worked, but Steve's cup was smacked out of his hand and onto the dirt, the contents spilling.

"Whoops." Barry said, and kept walking, flanked by two equally large men.

Darcy tried, she really did.

"Didn't your mama ever teach you basic manners?" she said, and goddammit Steve, she could hear her accent more clearly than ever.

"Didn't yours?" he said back, with a decidedly huge grin on his face. He wanted to engage, wanted to stir them up. Steve looked at his cup, the spilled water, then back to Darcy and the head table, where all eyes were on them.

"Now's not the time, baby." he said quietly.

"Yeah,  _baby_." Barry sneered, upper lip drawing back over his teeth. "Come and see me later."

"Time and place." she growled at him.

"My bunk, ten o'clock?" he cocked a eyebrow, looked at her dog tags, nestled in the deep juncture of her chest. "You don't need to bring anything, baby. Just lay there and I'll treat you so good-"

She would've liked to reflect on this moment with poise and dignity. Would've liked to have been able to say: "I was the bigger man, and I walked away with my nose in the air, because I wouldn't touch that filthy scum bucket were he the last man on earth."

But what actually happened was Steve picked up his tray and brought it up and around, smashing it against his cheekbone, and Darcy launched from her seat clear across the table, tackling him around the waist.

She knocked him clear to the floor, scrambled to sit on his chest, and got two satisfyingly loud punches into his nose before one of the cronies got hands under her pits and yanked her off, lifting her kicking away from the bloodied solider.

There was the metallic CLANK of Steve's tray against something that honestly sounded hollow, and the guy holding her dropped her onto her feet.

There would've been more, had a voice not bellowed:

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU FIVE THINK YOU'RE DOING!?"

And then more yelling, as General Phillips gave them a sound lecture in not fighting each other, but the Nazis, and all sorts of patriotic bullshit Darcy twitched throughout the length of.

Ultimately they were simply disciplined with push ups that Darcy flew through with angry energy, just shy of beating Barry to the finish. Steve, however, struggled to get to fifteen, never mind the fifteen more he had to go through.

She had to wait, listen to him puff and struggle without saying anything, chin up and eyes forward. When he was finally done, he stood, chest heaving, shaking beside her.

"Now, I understand boys being boys, but you-" he pointed at her. "-Should know better."

She grit her teeth. Steve leaned very slightly to her side, lending her the courage through the brush of his sleeve not to bite back. It was very hard. She was literally chewing on her tongue.

"Something to say, cadet?" he said, and pitched both brows. He knew the struggle. He knew her type. He wanted to trip her up.

Her brain was shrieking " _I GOT ALOTTA THINGS I WANNA SAY TO YOU_ ", but her tongue was kept firmly between her teeth. She unlocked her jaw.

"No, sir."

"Glad to hear it." he stared at her for a long moment, then Barry, whose face was pouring blood like a tap. He glared back at her. "What's your name, Cadet?"

"Lewis, sir."

"Lewis Sir? That's an odd name for a woman."

She could feel her eye twitching.

"Darcy is my first given name, sir."

"I didn't ask for just one or the other, I asked you your name, Cadet!"

"Darcy Lewis, sir."

"Next time I ask you a simple question, answer properly."

She was bright red in the face.

"Yes, sir."

He looked at Barry, made him answer his name.

"Barry Richards, sir."

"You couldn't even get a defense up?" he said flatly. "Cadet Lewis is lucky to be ninety pounds soaking wet, and she knocked you on your ass and bloodied your face?"

"They teamed up on me, sir." he said. "The little guy caught me off guard and hit me in the back of the head with a tray, sir."

Darcy may, or may not, have muttered a very bad word under her breath, followed by: "Liar."

"What was that, Lewis?" The General did look particularly intimidating, when all his attention was focused on her. He stood right in her space, making her reflexively lean back. "Did I ask you a question, Cadet?"

"No, sir."

"Did I give you permission to speak?"

"No, sir."

"Did I ask you weather or not Cadet Richards was in fact, a liar?"

"No, sir."

"Do I strike you as a stupid man, Cadet?"

She nearly had enough guts to pretend to think it through.

"No, sir."

"Then keep your opinion - and your language - to yourself." he said, and stepped back. "Drop and give me fifty."

She nearly said the bad word again, but got down on the floor and started going through her paces.

Steve stiffened.

"All due respect, sir," he said quickly. "May I take half of those on Cadet Lewis's behalf, sir?"

"No, you most certainly may not." He stepped over Darcy, who was up to her fourth push up. "Name?"

"Steven Grant Rogers, sir."

"Ah. The wildcard." he glanced at Darcy, red faced and pushing up, then back to Steve. "One of 'em. Whatever. I read your file. You don't belong here. You're tolerated, but you don't belong here. And no amount of no romantical gesture is gonna get you, or her, out of the discipline I chose to give you. Drop and give me twenty for the effort, Cadet Rogers."

"Yes sir." he said, and assumed the position next to Darcy, his arms trembling already. His asthma was playing up, a courtesy of all the dirt kicked up and the exercise.

"Now." The General turned back to Barry. "You, get to medical, get that nose seen to. Then you report back to me and I'll give you the details of your latrine duty, because I can't abide liars, especially bad ones who think I'm stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid, sir."

"So you thought you'd pick a fight with these two and no one would notice? So you thought I was blind or stupid. Which was it?"

"I-..."

"Blind or stupid? Or both? You're both. Knock a man's cup outta his hand is as good as a punch in the mouth. And you thought you were gonna get away with it, right under my nose, and lie in my face to try and save yours. You can't save your face. It was all bent outta shape before you even stepped in here, before Cadet Lewis just about knocked your nose back into your skull."

Darcy would've chuckled, if she had the wind in her.

"You two-" he addressed the others, telling them off soundly, before Darcy finished her push ups and stood, breathing hard. Steve was finished shortly after. "-I didn't count those last ten, Cadet Lewis."

She nearly glared, but resolutely got back on the floor and barely managed to get through them, arms trembling when she finally stood.

The General gave them all sound glares.

"You two," he inclined his head between Darcy and Steve. "Don't sit together in the mess anymore. You encourage each other."

Steve's breathing was becoming more and more a concern. She just agreed in sync with him, trying to get it over and done with so that he could get his breath back.

"Now everyone back to dinner. You're all on clean up tonight." he said, looking at them. "Attease."

Darcy turned to Steve but he was bent to pick up his fallen cup before the noise could start up again. The other two men who had flanked Richards barely refrained from hip and shouldering past them.

"Steve," she said. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be." he cocked a quick grin. "Good hit, honey."

* * *

They were running, sweating, exhausted.

"YOU TWO! GET YOUR ASSES TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE IN THE NEXT TEN SECONDS, OR DOUBLE TIME DRILLS FOR THE WHOLE GODDAMN PLATOON!"

"Shit." she said, and dropped her head. She'd been running to keep his pace just to spend some time with him, keep an ear on his wheezing. He was barely breathing, and they had half a mile to go. The men couldn't complain under the watchful eye of their commander, but the looks they shot back were enough to boil paint.

"Steve." she huffed. "I'm gonna piggy back you."

"What?"

"Get on my back," she said, and stopped running. "I got it, baby. Get on my back."

It took him two painfully long seconds to decide, before he climbed on and she shot forward, a little clumsy under the added weight. Steve's wheezy breathing didn't sound any kind of good in her ear, and she nearly tripped over a loose branch. Somehow, stubbornly, she made the front of the line, keeping up with the other sweat soaked cadets, including Barry.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, LEWIS!?"

"Getting to the front of the line," she puffed loudly. "Sir!"

"I DIDN'T SAY ROGERS COULD CATCH A RIDE!"

"All due respect, sir-"

"Darcy-" Steve warned.

"Y' didn't say he couldn't, either, sir. You said both of us," she puffed, painfully aware of her accent. "Front o' the line. You didn't say how. Sir."

She could see Dr. Erskine in the jeep, General Phillips riding shotgun, Peggy in the back, her brow arched high. She turned her face forward and kept her pace, despite wanting to curl up on the ground and  _die._

"WELL! WOULD YA LOOK AT THAT! WE GOT OURSELVES A SMART ASS. YOU CAN JUST KEEP ON CARRYING HIM ALL THE WAY TO BASE, LEWIS!" she was told in a bellow. "DOUBLE TIME PEOPLE! THEM NAZIS WON'T WAIT FOR NO ROMANTIC RESCUE!"

"Put me down," Steve said in her ear.

"I'll-" she was very much regretting this. "-get in trouble. Gotta take you home. Don't worry, baby-" she turned her face so he could see she was grinning.

"I got you."

They made it back to base, and somehow, she'd only slipped back to third line. But she was now dying, her arms strained under Steve's legs, hips arching from where his bony knees had dug into her. Not to mention every extension of her legs was burning. She carried him on base, letting him slide off her back so she could heave for breath more easily.

There was shouting in her face but she was too exhausted to pay any mind to it, staring mildly back up into the drill sergeant's gaping maw. He was going an unhealthy shade of purple at her apparent disinterest. She supposed he was mad because she'd made it, but through the haze of exhaustion she could hardly decipher.

They ran on to a flag pole, and there was more talking Darcy was supposed to be listening to, but all she could think about was her everything hurting.

"The pin." Steve said.

"Wah?"

"We get the flag, we get a ride." he said mildly, and she blinked back. He just smiled. "Give me a hand."

He took one from one side, and she, the other - the pole toppled down and bounced when it hit the floor. Steve casually took her hand, and together, they bent to pick up the flag. Peggy's red smile was every inch amused, when they clambered onto the back of the truck.

Darcy dropped her head back against the seat, aching all over.

"What would I do without you?" she asked the sky.

"Be safe, at home." he mused, and dared drop a quick kiss on her cheek. "Or at least the front of the runs. You're faster'n you let on. Wish you wouldn't lag back for me."

"Not gonna." she managed, and rubbed hard heels over her thighs. "I don't know how I'll get to mess tonight. I might just pass out in my bunk."

"I'll sneak you in some." he promised, and linked their fingers.

"You can't sneak." she accuse with a small smile.

"Wanna bet?"

"Ten says you get your skinny ass caught out."

"You got it, baby doll." he said in his best Bucky drawl, which made her laugh and hurt all over.

* * *

She had been sound asleep when a small hand braced her forehead.

"Steve?" she cracked open an eye.

Peggy's red mouth smiled at her.

"Not exactly."

"Did he get caught?"

"Not exactly." Her face swam into focus. "I found him trying, but I didn't report it."

"He owes me ten bucks." she mumbled, and blinked sleep away. Everything ached when she tried to sit up, but she did it, Peggy bracing her bicep. She saw the meat and potatoes on her bedside and her stomach didn't rumble so much as  _roar._

"Just this once," Peggy warned her, and sat on the edge of her bed and sipped at her own drink.

Darcy demolished her dinner and relaxed back into her bed.

"Thank you."

"It wasn't me. It was Steve." she looked down at the cup between her hands. "He loves you."

"I should hope so, because I love him more'n anything in this whole world." she must've been stupid, half asleep. "He's the best thing to ever happen to me. Bestest thing to have happened in the world, ever. Cares about me, more'n just my tits or my waist or what I can do in the kitchen. He's gonna do great things, heart of gold like his. Deserves the world. He's gonna do good things..." she stopped to yawn.

"He will, I'm sure." the elder woman said, and Darcy may or may not have imagined the gently stroking hand at her hair. "Go to sleep, Cadet."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

The pin was pulled. The grenade dropped and rolled. She and Steve clashed throwing themselves down on it.

"I got it, I got it." he said, pushing at her shoulder. "Go, take cover, get outta here-"

"Not today," and she braced herself in a small ball, hand clamped down on the back of his head.

They waited.

They waited.

"Love you." he said, almost an afterthought.

"Love you too." and she smashed a pursed mouth against his cheek.

* * *

Ultimately, when Erskine picked her, she was proud and excited and so, so looking forward to it.

What kind of progress could she make for women everywhere?

A new age of female soldiers, equality for every single little girl who grew up thinking with her fists before the rest of her brain. She could make a stand, show the entire world exactly what a woman could be made of.

But half way through Erskine's speech, the elation she felt at this opportunity fell out of her ear.

Bounced sadly out the door, and rolled away.

"What was that, Dr.?" she said, softly.

He stopped talking, eyebrows hiking.

"I said, any ailments you have from here onward will cease to exist."

There was more talking, but all she could hear was Steve's uneasy wheezing, his cough, the creak of his bones when he woke up in the morning. And the Dr. might've seen her face bleed of all color, because he stopped talking, reaching out a hand to her knee.

"How close," she whispered. "Was the decision between me and Steve?"

"About this much." he held up a thumb and forefinger, and then said something that made her wince. "You are chosen because you are a woman. I believe it will have a positive ripple effect in the community."

So did she. God, she knew it in her _bones_. If she was the first in a breed of super soldiers, she could be a role model, make her family proud.

And more importantly, she'd be taller.

"I..." she searched his face, felt lost and uncertain and very much her real age. She was a liar, to get into the program. He thought she was legally of age to consent, but she wasn't. And usually, it made no difference to Darcy, but she felt acutely guilty for it. "I can't."

His fluffy white brows lifted higher on his face.

"Why?" he said, simply.

"Steve." she swallowed. "If you can... he's not broken, but if you could fix him, make him _healthy_ \- fix his chest, the breathing... even just a fraction of it. Even just... just the asthma. He's-... He deserves this. The chance. To be able to... Be able."

He blinked.

"Are you certain?"

"I'll go next." she said, with a small smile. "Be the runner up. I don't mind. Just - you're sure this'll work? Beyond a shadow of a doubt?"

"I wouldn't have offered, were I not one hundred percent certain."

She chewed her lip.

"Then I'm very sorry, Dr. But I have to decline."

There was a moment of warm silence. Then his hand patted her knee, and he smiled, tilting his head so his glasses slid down his nose.

"You will be next." he told her. "I will have my Adam, and then my Eve."


	12. Chapter 12

The basement was huge. Despite the overwhelming size, she had been feeling small since Steve came running into her tent, puffing hard, wide eyed and spluttering about the decision that had been made.

It wasn't that she didn't trust the Dr., because she did. But Steve was always so... fragile. If putting him first meant that he got hurt, or - heaven forbid, if he  _died_... she didn't know what she'd do with the guilt.

But she didn't mention to Steve that she'd been picked, and he thought her melancholy was because he was going first. She allowed it, because he himself had said that if she had've been chosen, he would've wanted to guinea pig before her anyway.

She saw a familiar slick head, and nodded to him, making Steve's brows shoot up.

"That's him?"

"Yeah." she said, and they wondered over, arm in arm. "That's him."

The man lowered his goggles to around his neck when he saw her, grinning so that his mustache was slanted on his face.

"You know," Howard said evenly. "You might not be so pale if ya hadda known what kinda effort went into this machine."

"You know," she stuck her hand in his. "That might be true if I hadda gone first."

He just laughed, and stuck his hand out to Steve.

"Howard Stark. You're the man of the hour?"

"Yes sir. Steve Rogers, at your disposal."

"Not disposal, sweetheart." Darcy said, and wondered over to the control panel behind Stark, hands tucked under her arms.

"You, uh..." Steve glanced at the machine he had to be locked in. "I heard a lot about you, Mr Stark."

"I should think you did." he cracked an impressed grin over his shoulder. "You got quite the dame there, Mr. Rogers."

"I do." he said, and was very, very proud to know it.

"Mr. Stark." Darcy said, lifting up a clipboard, flicking the pages over. "This is a multi-pressurized containment unit."

"Yes it is. Can I ask how you know that?"

She cocked both brows, looking at him without moving her head.

"I have concerns," she said slowly. "That you are going to pop my fella's lungs."

"By the time the secondary pressurization kicks in, babydoll, the serum will be well and truly working. The internal organs are the first to be inflated and reinforced, and from what I understand of Dr. Erskine's notes, it's heart, brain, lungs, kidneys, stomach. So he'll be fine."

"He'd better be." she smiled very sweetly, knowing Steve was watching, and grabbed a handful of his shirt, hauling him close. "You mess up my fella and I'm gonna rip your mustache off and make you  _eat it_."

"Noted." his eyebrows shot up, and his eyes flicked between hers, nervous.

"That's what I like to hear." she said, and let him go, clapping his shoulder good naturedly.

"Cadet Lewis." Agent Carter said firmly. "Please stop manhandling the engineer."

"Yes ma'am." she said, and turned to Steve and wiggled her eyebrows. "Mind if I manhandle you instead?"

"Not at all." he mused, and tried to hide his smile, despite it curling on his mouth under a faint blush on his cheekbones.

"Time for mushy stuff later," Dr. Erskine said, looking up from a clipboard. "It's time. Undress."

She watched Steve disrobe in silence, and her fingers twitched to help him with the buttons. She would've just gone ahead and done so, had her hands not been trembling.

He climbed into the machine, only partially lifted, the shadows of his ribs awfully pronounced. If he'd been concerned about her size when they first got together, she was more concerned about his now. No wonder he stuck to Bucky's blazers - they made him look at least partially well-fed. As soon as the needle came out, she flinched on his behalf, but stepped up on the platform to put her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey." she said quietly, and smiled. "All these dames wondering around and you're mostly naked."

"You're my girl." he told her, his grin half warped by pain as the needle punched through his skin. She reached down and squeezed his fingers. "I didn't even -ow- notice."

"You're a bad liar, honey."

"I try not to lie to you." he said and winced as the needle came out again. "That wasn't so bad."

"That was penicillin, Steve."

"Ah." he said, and stared up at Darcy. "Why did you say that to Mr. Stark?"

"I got all these muscles from the army I wanna try out." she said evenly, and smoothed a hand over his chest.

"Try not to scare him too bad, baby, I need his mind on the job."

"His mind'll stay on the job if he wants his pretty nose to stay on his face." she promised him, just loud enough for the engineer to roll his eyes.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Steve murmured. "Be nice."

"I'm always nice." she swallowed, fretted with the belt at her waist. "I just want you to know - no matter what happens, Steve. I'm waiting for you."

"Yeah?" he tipped his head. "I feel like it's usually me, waiting on you."

"Not this time." her lips were trembling without permission.

He squeezed her fingers.

"I'll be back in five." he smiled.

"I'll always love you, just like this. Just as you are. You understand?" she brushed her hand over his hair. "Just like this."

"I know." he squeezed her fingers. "I love you."

She bent and gave him a kiss.

"Love you too."

Walking away and watching the metal doors bolt closed around her tiny paramour was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.

Then she had to listen to him screaming, and that was  _infinitely_  harder.

She was glaring at Stark so she didn't have to look at the machine, her hands in fists so tight nails punched holes into her palms.

Peggy shouted for them to turn it of, but Steve denied it, and Darcy had a hard time not prying the metal open to fit herself in there with him, take some of the pain away.

But then it stopped, and so did her heart.

No noise was worse.

No noise potentially meant that Steve's lungs had exploded and he had no air.

"Steve?" she said, and the word echoed in the large room. "Steve?"

The doors parted, and all she knew was that his chest was rising and falling, head loosely lolling. His differing size came in a close second when she actively hard to reach up to touch his face and try and find the hammering pulse in his neck.

When his lashes parted and he found her frightened gaze, her heart started beating again.

"Hiya honey." he said, coarse. "Told ya. Five minutes."

"Longest damn minutes of my life."

"I concur." the grin that cracked made a startled laugh spill out of her mouth.

"How do you feel?"

"Taller."

"You look it, too." she mused, and allowed herself to be swept back so that the nurses could unclip him and take his vitals. There were a lot of lingering hands and even Peggy's gaze dropped to the drips of sweat sliding over his skin, but in all honesty, Darcy didn't mind, she had a hard enough time not ogling him herself. It took him a second, but he swayed on wobbly feet, then opened his arms for her and took steps forward.

It was strange.

Not entirely good.

She was so used to being careful and inclining her head down that when his very hot mouth settled on hers, and two thick arms lifted her clear off the floor, she froze a little.

Her arms were kinda crushed between them. He let her down, opened his eyes, smiled sheepishly, and let her feet touch the floor.

"Hi." he said, and brushed a kiss against her brow.

"Hi yourself, solider boy." she pressed her fingers against his jaw. It was still the same Steve, not paying any mind to the buzz happening around him, just staring with his baby blues locked on her. It made her feel precious, the way it always had, but it also felt slightly stifling.

The moment of relief was so thick around them the gunshot was honestly quite muted.

"I got him." she barked, falling down beside Erskine. "Go!"

The doctor was dead before Steve even vaulted the stairs, and his blood pooled on her cupped hands, in her uniform.

And... Holy Jesus, that was a _lot_  of blood.

"Hang on, Doc," she was whispering, hands pressing, fretting. She didn't know so much blood was in the human body. "Just hold on, hold on -"

He had precisely enough energy to lift one slow, sluggish arm, and tap the flat part of her chest. Steve had told her he'd picked him for his heart - the implication made Darcy cringe, duck her head for a moment, press her hands down over the hole in his chest

Howard Stark might've spoken but she wasn't leaving. When he put hands on her arms she violently shrugged him off.

"Babydoll-"

"I can still save him, just help me!" she looked up at him, big eyed and hands full of cooling blood. "Help me!"

He looked around at the nurses, of whom were already shaking their heads, then crouched in his shiny shoes and fancy fitted trousers and carefully reached out to touch her shoulder again.

"Moxie, baby," he said carefully. "It's done. It's happened. There's nothing left to do."

She looked at the doctor in her arms, eyes unfocused on a point just beyond her shoulder.

"I don't understand." she told him, pressing her hand down harder. If she could feel anything, she'd shake him. "How? It - how-?"

"He was shot through and through," a nurse - maybe the one with the  _eyes_  that had given Steve that _look_  - carefully crouched in front of her, put her fingertips to the doctor's back. "You only plugged up one side, honey."

"That would've hit something too delicate to save," another offered, gently, her mouth mostly hidden behind her hand. "There's nothing to be done, sweetheart."

Darcy looked at him, scowled, looked at Howard.

"That's-... A lot, a lot more _blood_ -" she choked on the word.

"You're alright, shh, shh, you're alright, c'mon, c'mere-" he eased the Doctor away from her and scooped her up off the floor with an arm looped around her lower back. As soon as he was gone, she could see her hands, her arms, her lap, and Jesus, Christ, so much  _blood_. The smell of it was so strong it was in her mouth. She could  _taste_  it.

Maybe the gagging gave it away, maybe because she stopped walking to try and turn around and look at him again, but Howard firmed up the arm around her and steered her bodily to a sink, his free hand clamped around her arm.

"Don't do that to yourself, doll," he warned, warm and low. "Don't make that your last memory of the man, alright? Here. Stay here, in this moment."

"Steve?"

"Steve's just fine." He ran the water on full blast, freezing cold, and took off only his shiny gold watch before taking her hands in his and shoving them under the spray. Darcy could only watch, morbidly fascinated and exceptionally horrified, as the bold red diluted into the water, the man's stained hands scrubbing over hers.

"S'lot more blood than I thought." she told him, and started scrubbing with her own hands, more violently than he had.

He took a pocket square from his lab coat - the dapper bastard - and wet it, before gently wiping off drying blood on her face. She hadn't touched her face, so she knew it was spatter. She had been standing directly behind him at the time the gun went off. If Steve - maybe, if Steve hadn't been giving her the goo-goo eyes, maybe they could've saved him. Was she a distraction? Was she a mistake?

"We're not gonna be able to recreate the serum." she told him, blinking owlishly at his face. "If Steve - doesn't get it back -"

"Steve will." he informed her.

"And if he doesn't," she gulped. "The serum is gone. We only got one half of a working whole." her eyes flicked to the machine.

He gave her a halfhearted smile.

"All the same, I'm Howard Stark. I'll make it work, and make it work better." he winked. "Gotta hava little faith, Moxie."

He steered Darcy to a dark haired nurse, made them take her dripping trousers and shirt, swapping them for what was Steve's small fitting uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder that I haven't been in the army and my knowledge is limited to Wikipedia and half remembered lines from the movie. Gentle reminder that it took me at least six months just to post my baby multichapter fic after a year of writing it. Gentle reminder that while you read your reprimand in matter-of-fact, I read it like: "HAHAHAHA I KNOW SOMETHING YOU DONT KNOW YOU FUCKED UP WELL DONE YOU SUCK".
> 
> And no, I'm not going to rectify my mistakes, because I'm a stubborn child, and no one even likes Barry anyway.


	13. Chapter 13

It was so weird.

His hand was hot in hers, not sweating, but hot.

It made her palm wet but only because her body was so used to bony fingers and lack of circulation, and a part of her brain registered as being really touchy feely with not-Steve.

She was leaning against his side for non-verbal support, but he was so significantly bigger than her, it was hard to get used to. If she didn't occasionally look at his face, she felt like she was cheating.

He squeezed her fingers gently, raised her knuckles to his mouth, pressing a tiny kiss on the back of her hand. Peggy, watching, smiled and put her eyes down.

Darcy just shifted in her seat, looking forward.

They'd lost the serum. She was going to be forever useless. How the hell would she match up to Steve - who could now, apparently chase speeding cars on foot and vault fences in one bound and pull car doors off of hinges?

If Steve was a super solider, what the hell did that make her?

Steve bumped her with his very large shoulder and she determinedly did not flinch.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"Not a lot. Just, kinda here."

His mouth smiled but the rest of him did not.

"Mr. Stark said you had a bit of a panic."

"That wasn't panic." she swallowed, hard, kept her eyes on the ground. "That was shock. S'... S'lotta blood, Steve."

He twitched.

"I just-" he said, then stopped, and looked at her. "I'm here, sweetheart. Whatever you need."

"Just you." she murmured, but she meant her Steve, the Steve she knew, little and wheezy with that cough that played up when he was cold and didn't have to crack her neck to kiss. "I only need you."

He pressed another hot kiss against her wrist and let her do her thinking, all of it in the same vein as: "I'm going to be _useless_ ," and "I want _my_ Steve back."

It wasn't that the new Steve was any kind of bad - clearly he was aces, all better from his multitude of ailments, huzzah - but she hadn't considered how different it would be.

Not that he wasn't nice to look at, but Steve had always been nice to look at, with his pretty bird bones and fine features, and long, long eyelashes.

They mighta been a lil' mismatched - Darcy was a lot wider than him in certain areas and she had her mother's bold nose and chin, along with her father's thick, loud mouth, where Steve was soft and nice.

Steve didn't look soft, or nice anymore, he looked like he'd spent half his life putting the workhorses to shame with those _shoulders_.

So yeah, mighta been a little mismatched before, what with all the physical differences, but now? They were mismatched even worse, like she'd traded in her little artist for the human triangle beside her.

She couldn't be bitter about it, when it had probably saved his life. And given him all the chances in the world to do what he wanted to do - to fight, to stand up for people and back it up.

Not just with his black and white sense of right and wrong, but with the _arms_ , too.

Bullies respected arms more'n words, funnily. When they arrived at their new, temporary lodgings, Steve was swept in for measurements and she was cast aside after a long once over and for the first time in her life, deemed 'too square'.

For a long series of hours she waited outside, feet up on the bench, staring between her knees with her hands clasped together.

She tried not to remember the slick feel of blood in the creases, and rubbed them repeatedly on borrowed trousers. Dr. Erskine had little friends, and she was thinking of his funeral, and how she wished she knew more about flowers, when a pair of shiny shoes strolled past her vision and a very nice cologne filled her nose.

"You've been sitting here for hours." Howard said, a touch amused under all the concern. "Somethin' fun to look at?"

"Not so much." she glanced up at him, then back down.

"Yeah, I know that face. That's a thinkin' face." he mused. "Why don't you give it a break before you hurt yourself and get a drink, doll?"

"What, because I'm a girl a little thinkin' is gonna hurt me?" She aimed her sneer at him, but he was shaking his head, smile small and kinda sad.

"Hurt yourself," he repeated, and tapped his chest. Darcy felt her sneer fall off her face.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, it's just... It's just that, I guess I'm used to..."

"I know." He shrugged. "Now. Come get a drink. Soothe your nerves some."

"My nerves are fine." They were shot to hell. She narrowed one eye at him, tilted her head. "That bein' said... Are you buying?"

"Already bought. Got half the United States liquor in my office." he patted her knee, wiggled his brows. "You know I get the good stuff."

"That wine." she said cheekily, suddenly having a hot memory flash of Steve, Bucky and her sat around their little counter, passing the bottle between them. She couldn't help but beam at it, remembering those feelings of home and happy like they were so far away. "The one you sent back with me when I thought over the offer. You got any?"

"I might." he mused, and grinned. "My offer still stands, you know. You can still work with me. Maybe between us we can replicate the serum and you can match up to your sweetheart, in there."

There was a burst of loud, girlish laughter, and above it, the director trying to shush the girls. She scowled in the direction, and did not squash a crawling bug with more vehemence than necessary.

"Why aren't you there, anyway?"

"I'm too square, 'ccordin' t' that fancy pants director." she muttered, looking between her knees. "I'll knock him flat if he lets those girls put hands on my man."

"Surprised you didn't knock him flat for kickin' you out. Didn't think you'd let him, actually, he's a pushover." Howard laughed, threading his thumbs under his suspenders.

"S'not about bein' tougher than a pushover." She amended. She was uncomfortable around proper dames in varying states of dress at the best of times, let alone when she was all lumps from the army and dirty hands. "Just... Don't belong in there."

"Oh, baby doll." He sighed. "He needs his eyes fixed. You ain't square, you're nice, take it from someone who knows."

She didn't know how to take that, actually. She didn't have time to consider.

"Get up."

"What for?"

"We're goin' to see if your pretty fella needs saving."

"With those arms, I think he can handle himself."

"Don't be bitter, it'll give you a face like a lemon." he said, and nudged her boots with his pointy Italian shoe. "Let's go. Up and march."

She couldn't help but crack a grin, and raise a hand to push her hair back from her eyes.

"If I hadda had you for a PO, I'm fairly sure I would've loved the army a lot more."

"Are you calling me soft?" he said, mock appalled, and kicked her boot again. "I'll have you know, I've seen a day or two in combat myself. At least a day and a half."

It raised a laugh out of her, but only because she knew he wasn't messing around, he was literally in battle for a day and most of the next before he swore off it in pursuit of Science!.

She got up, rubbing her numb leg, before following Howard into the tent.

Steve did need rescuing, from all the wolves milling around him, wearing short skirts and socks in their bras.

 _To hell with being too square,_ she thought. _At least I'm real and truly me._

She shoved through them, Howard making cooing noises that she supposed meant he was being suave.

"Ex-cuse me-!" the director said, but she lifted her hand and put it right in his face.

"You're excused." she said, rather flatly, before turning eyes up to Steve. "Going for a drink with Stark. Do you need rescuing?"

"Uhm-" he looked around at the woman with the tape measure, who had an impressive loop that looked vaguely like this size of his bicep. She waved him on, smiling good-naturedly at Darcy, who gave her a long once over and committed her face to memory as 'to be trusted'. "-Yes. Please."

"Okay." she took his hand, refusing to notice the undone buttons at his waist, the fact that he was once again, without a shirt, and turned to drag him through the masses by a hand.

The director - she was going to punch him in the cravat, at some stage, she just knew it - stepped in her way, hands flapping.

"Ex-cuse me!" he said again, with a touch of growl.

"You don't gotta ask twice, buddy, I said you're 'scused."

"We have rehearsals!" he nothing short of squarked at her. "And you're dragging the main attraction away to fraternize in a corner!"

"As opposed to what, having him gallivant without half his damn clothes on in here?" she glared at him. "You best get outta my way, honey. I ain't got time for this."

"He needs to practice, little girl, he needs to- !" if he wasn't going to speak to her like an adult, she wasn't going to behave like one, barreling on, with him grabbing at Steve's hand as they past.

Howard was leaning against a dressing table, making goo-goo eyes at a chorus girl, handed her his keys on their way past. He may or may not have shouted out something else, but she ignored it, teeth gritted.

Steve caught up to her pace without any extra effort on his part, and pressed a kiss against her temple.

"Thanks." he said, and tucked his other hand across his chest, as though his nipples might be offending someone.

There were only other soldiers - ones that looked at the determined set of Darcy's jaw and her stride and his naked torso and thought only one thing, cat calling and wolf whistling as she marched them on.

At that stage, Darcy felt crowded by the large solider at her side. The last thing she could think of was him on top of her.

She fumbled with the keys, finally sliding the correct one in the lock, before shoving it open with her shoulder and waiting for her fella to get his ass in the office before slamming the door shut.

Steve waited for her to turn before he took her face in his hands, lowering his mouth to hers.

It made her neck ache, to have to pitch it so far back to kiss him. He'd been 5'4, but was now 6'2, and that meant he was over a foot taller than her.

It meant she'd have to invest in heels, and the thought made her sigh sadly into his mouth.

"What's wrong?" he murmured, putting their foreheads together.

"Nothin'." she said thickly, and stroked the familiar panes of his face, before stepping back, looking around the office. It was cozy - there were papers everywhere, full of designs she was very interested in reading. "Big day."

"Yeah." he put his other hand over his rib cage, rubbing self-consciously. She dragged an afghan off the back of a sofa and handed it to him with a small smile, marveling that for all his riches, Howard Stark was a fairly comfortable man.

"I was thinking," she said softly, and swallowed. "We're going to have to go to Dr. Erskine's funeral. Maybe organize somethin'. Mentioned he didn't have many friends, didn't he?"

He stiffened, half drawing the blanket to his chest, brow coming down.

"Yeah," he said, and sighed heavily, sitting on the sofa. It creaked, threatened to break under his new weight. "He did."

"And-" she grit her teeth and sat beside him, hands going to his. He wrapped his palms around hers, dropping a kiss to her knuckles, and it made her feel lost, somehow, even if the touch was meant to be grounding. "-I'm thinking about working with Howard. Taking up as his apprentice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." she shrugged one shoulder, looked at their hands, how mis-matched they were, his paws huge as mits, and hers tiny and nearly perpetually stained by something. Today, it was blood. "Well, he's going to need to do some tests on you and, he thinks maybe we can unlock the serum together with what notes Dr. Erskine left behind and what he discussed with Howard personally. We'd still be on camp, together, you and I - cuz where you go, I'm gonna need to be. So... What do you think about that?"

"I think it's great, sweetheart." he said warmly. "But you know I wanted you to go with him in the first place."

"I know, but-" she flicked her eyes up to his face. So much the same, but so different. "-if I had've, we wouldn't be here now, would we?"

"No." he smiled, and looked at her through his lashes. "But we would've ended up in the same place, and that's gotta mean somethin', don't it?"

She smiled.

It was one of the smiles that only Steve knew; it was soft and true and honestly her, a touch feminine and a little young. Darcy had a problem with how soft she could be, something her six brothers and father made blindingly apparent was a perceived weakness.

But Steve, he drew it out of her, made it safe for it to bleed through. She wasn't all thorns and snark, and Steve knew it more than anyone had ever cared to.

"Reckon it means everything." she told him, and allowed him to kiss her, hands going to frame his face.

It was easier, when he didn't use his bear sized hands on her, when she didn't have to arch her neck so much to kiss him.

They were making out like a couple teenagers when Howard came in, a chorus girl under each arm, and ruined the moment with a: "Thought I told you, there's a bed out back you could utilize?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone :) 
> 
> Between today and tomorrow, I may or may not get the chance to update. So I'm doing it on a train right now, Ahaha 
> 
> I'll be writing back all comments on this chapter, so if you hav questions, or something you want to say, now's the time ;)


	14. Chapter 14

Five Months Later

* * *

"Darcy, baby, what are you doing?"

"Push ups." she grunted into the floor, and continued.

She knew how, in the last few months, her body had changed. Steve might have been able to dress up and flex in a different city every week, but she had kept the regimen that had been set for her in boot camp. Out of bed come the crack of dawn, running, strengthening her body. It was all she could do, while her solider boy was swept up in glitz and glam and 'rehearsals'.

"Why?"

"Cuz I gotta."

"But... Why?"

She didn't answer, pretended not to hear. She rounded off her push ups, swung around, and without taking pause like she usually would, jammed her feet under the steps and started lifting chest to her knees.

"Uhm, we've been invited out," he said, coming to sit on the stairs she was using, a boot bracketing her on either side. Six months ago he wouldn't have. Six months ago she would've been elbows deep in welding or hammering something, not working out her over active brain on expending large sums of physical energy. "I thought maybe we should... just you 'n' me... maybe go and see a picture together in town. If you want."

He was still her honey, still her big blue eyed Steve, somewhere behind all the extra bulk. Sometimes, she forgot. She sat up, hugging her legs, panting hard.

"Can't." she huffed, and he looked devastated. "I'm - it's not you - I gotta - train."

"Oh." he said, and fiddled with his fingers.

"Steve." she put her grossly wet hand over his, smoothing a thumb over his knuckles. She managed to crack a smile for him, still breathing hard. "You go out. Have fun enough for both of us."

"I miss you." he said evenly, twisting his hands to take hold of hers. "I never see you any more."

It wasn't  _her_  fault.

She worked a decent day with Howard but Steve was always doing something when she got off. And it wasn't like Howard kept her longer than her allotted time; Steve knew her fixed hours and he knew where she'd be if she weren't sleeping or eating.

Still, she smiled.

"I know." she dropped a quick kiss on his knuckles, leaned back with her fists at her temples, and began doing her sit ups again. "Go out. Have fun."

"I-"

Some of the chorus girls were in pretty dresses, nice neat little heels. Between them and the rest of the clique, there were one man to three females. Steve, of course, being the main attraction (or meal, she wasn't sure).

"Okay." he said, and stood. "I'll be back soon. I still wanna have dinner with you."

"Sure thing." she puffed between her knees. "Six?"

"On the dot." he dropped into a crouch beside her. "Give me a kiss?"

She wasn't sure why, when he was glowing and beautiful and huge, she couldn't purse her mouth enough to plant one on him. When he was - _original Steve_  - she had a hard enough time not kissing him. No doubt he was feeling the distance from her, wanting to show off their relationship in front of all his new pretty, glitzy friends. She managed to pause enough to peck his cheek, and continued her sit ups.

He seemed dumbfounded, but smiled slightly and got up, much to the wolf whistles and whoops of the chorus.

It took her a significantly longer time to put herself through her paces, because it was a Saturday and Howard had said that she needed the time off from work. She couldn't actually sit still to have the day to herself, and since Steve had gone, she decided it was a good idea to double her usual effort.

She crashed right into Howard during her jog and only stopped to apologize and shove all his things back at him, before giving herself another two laps as corporal punishment.

She was back on push ups when shiny shoes obscured her view, and she squinted upwards at the well dressed Stark.

"Enough." he said simply.

"What?" she shook her head. "No - time -"

"Stop." he swung his shoe into the inside of her arms and knocked it loose enough that she fell on her chest.

"What!" she rolled onto her side to glare up at him. Despite her shirt being stained in sweat, the added dust on the front was not irritating so much as _infuriating_  her.

"Get up. Get into a shower. Go put a dress on, something-"

"Go away." she said and got to her feet, slicking back her fly aways with her own sweat. He stood in front of her. He was taller, but not by much. Her temper made her think to take him down if he pushed his luck.

"You have been doing this too long. You are in need of fuel." he said flatly. "You're not going to match him. He's the pinnacle of human fitness and perfection. You're not going to knock it through in one day."

She scoffed, loudly, and jogged around him.

"You're good enough as you are." he said after her retreating back. "Better, even."

Something about his tone made her stop. She rationalized it was her aching body, her burning lungs, the sweat that was sliding over her cheeks. She swiped at it angrily, turning towards him.

"Don't." she said, turning on him. "I know - you just -  _don't_!"

"I know that the human body is a machine that works best with fuel." he said flatly, and motioned to her.

"I know my limit." she snapped. "I'm not - trying to be better than Steve-"

"But you're trying to match him, and you won't. You can't. We're working on it, I'm working on it, but baby, you can't."

"I am not," she said through her teeth. " _Your_ baby."

"Ain't it a shame." he said lightly, and crossed his arms over his chest. "If you were my baby I never woulda walked off and left you with this tizz you've got yourself into."

"I-!" she puffed, inflating with indignant rage, a blush that had nothing to do with exhaustion swept over her cheeks. "I'm-! Not!"

"Really?" his brows raised. "Then why the extra work, huh? Why do you look like someone's filled your shoes with broken glass?"

"Extra?" she snapped, and narrowed her eyes on him. "How do you even - know I'm doing - extra?"

There was a moment of stunned silence, then he shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

"A pretty dame circles past my window every morning, a fella notices when she does twice that." he dropped his eyes to the fists at her sides, then looked back at her face. "You're my friend. I gotta notice."

She put one of them on her chest, feeling her still pounding heart.

"You... think I'm pretty?"

His grin cracked and she felt stupid. Would've left if he hadn't have said:

"I think you're stunning."

She laughed, breathless still, and shook her head.

"You need some work on that flattery, Mr. Stark."

"Howard." he corrected, not for the first time, and she cocked a brow at him. He shrugged. "Friends call me Howard."

"You tell all your friends they're pretty?"

"All the time." he said lightly, and smiled at her. "It's what makes me so likable."

She rolled her eyes.

"Like I'm pretty, when you've got ladies with legs up to their necks and all the good stuff runnin' around here."

He laughed outright at the description, sauntered over and put his around around her shoulders.

"I like a girl with brains and a mouth. The legs they can keep, and you've got goods enough for me."

"Uh huh. Don't touch me, I'm sweaty."

"Trust me, I'd rather the sweat than that scowl's been on your face all day." he knocked her chin with his fist lightly. "You're much more gorgeous when you smile."

"Quit." she said, and elbowed his rib cage.

Girls scuttled past, looking at them both with wide eyes. She noticed that Howard hadn't quite taken his arm from her person yet... but she didn't care. It had been months since she'd been easily close with anyone, and she had missed the commradery.

She decided to damn the gossip. Steve knew her better than whatever rumors they would spin. And besides, he'd gone off with a buncha pretty girls and she hadn't thought the worst of him.

The worst of them, sure, but not of him.

"Go on. Shower, relax. I'll cook you up somethin'."

"Got a date," she said with a bright smile. "My fella and I are goin' to dinner at six."

"I'll make it light then." he let her out from under his arm to the tiny bunk she'd claimed as her own.

"Howard?" He turned, draper, shiny shoes and arched brow. Stupidly bright red patterned tie against his not-so-white shirt. "I-... I appreciate this. I don't-" she wiped her hair back flat on her head again.

"Got a lot of friends, any more."

He smiled.

"Any time, gorgeous."

* * *

It was eight o'clock when she knocked on Howard's door.

Most of the troupe hadn't come back. Who had, was drunk, playing poker in the men's barracks or passed out.

Howard's ugly patterned tie was loose under his collar, suspenders hanging off the back of his pants, hair mussed up on one side, sleeves shoved up his elbows and shirt loose from his trousers.

She barely managed to suppress a smile under her glove.

"Wassamatter?" he blinked at her, woke up more. "Oh, heya, sweet thing. What're you up to?" he glanced at the golden band on his wrist.

"Thought you gotta date?"

Her lips thinned.

"So did I."

"Ah." he nodded, looked her over. "I hope you don't mind... but..." he whistled lowly. She gave him an obligatory twirl, fluttering made up lashes.

"I had a tough time finding anything to fit me right." she lifted her arm and tensed, making the material pull tight. "I might not be Steve, but, you know."

"Heh. I know." he held open the door. "I got that white wine you like... somewhere? Uh, coffee? Half an eaten bagel?"

She laughed, shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep." she eyed the print on his cheek. "Go to sleep in a bed, maybe."

"Join me?" he said lightly, clearly teasing, but opened his eyes more fully, mortified. "Hang on. I didn't - I meant it, but I didn't think - I don't think that of you. I mean, if you weren't with - I'm not-" he stopped talking.

Darcy tried, she tried really hard not to be a little bit proud at getting him flustered. From what she knew of seeing Howard Stark, he was unflappable with women. And what she'd seen of Howard around the particular brand of women around them regularly - he respected them, but was by no means the stumbling Steve before her.

Steve.

She ducked her eyes. Suddenly, her loneliness didn't seem so important. Steve had been stuttery, and she'd loved him, still loved him, had told him to go out and have fun.

But he hadn't kept their date. He hadn't kept their one year anniversary, either, too busy with selling his bonds. 

"Howard," she said evenly, and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from continuing to dig his verbal hole. "It's the flexing, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's the muscles, alright."

"I'll try not to do it again. Stick to my paces some other place."

"Please do, man's gotta work for his dinner."

She grinned.

"Somehow that flatters me more'n you telling me I'm pretty."

"I'm glad." he propped his arm against the door frame.

"Go to bed. Without me." she mused. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"If the lady insists." he bowed from the waist, then cracked a smile. "G'night."

"Night." she fluttered her fingers, then stepped away, back towards her tent.

She wiped off all her makeup, ate a cold sandwich alone, and was in bed when she heard the buses get in. She shut her eyes despite being wide awake, refusing to listen to the twitters and giggles and drunken slurs of the other girls around her.

He heard the flap to her tent open, the soft boot falls of someone heavy against the dirt. There was a long second where she held very still, knowing who it probably was but not entirely sure. Not until she heard him sigh, smelt his particular scent, and lay the warmest, gentlest kiss on her forehead.

"Love you." he said quietly, then lifted the flap to her tent and exited, leaving her completely still and wide eyed at the flowers he'd set on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gimme a couple hours to sleep and then I'll post another! ;)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeeeverything is gonna be fine. ;)

She woke up late, and pulled on her clothes while she heard the music and rehearsals start up, and tried in vain to ignore the pretty floral arrangement left by her bedside.

No one had ever got her flowers before.

As she stretched and put herself through the warm ups, she wasn't thinking, just mechanically working, muscles remembering so her brain could go on auto-pilot and let the rest of her steer.

Then she ran. When she passed Howard's office, he looked up to grin and lift his hand in a wave. She just smiled and turned her eyes forward. On her second circuit, he had perched on the window ledge, and was waiting with a bottle of water in hand, stuck out to her with the cap off.

"You're a godsend!" she told him, taking it without stopping.

"Good machines need fuel!" he reminded her, and she cackled with stupid laughter as she went.

It just so happened that for the next week, Howard waved on the first circuit and gave her a bottle of water on the second. She came to expect it, look forward to it. She couldn't always find excuses to see him for anything casual after they stopped working - and he couldn't always break from work to say anything that wasn't entirely scientific or mechanical in inflection, but that bottle of water in the morning was ritualistic, a friendly promise.

They packed up and moved to the next city and Steve hung around her as much as he could. She found him stifling, his sheer size generally upsetting, but he took up running with her in the morning and Howard seemed surprised, but had two uncapped bottles waiting on their second circuit.

She put on an extra burst of speed to get hers first, jogged backward with her thumb over the top.

"Cut any?" she puffed.

"Twenty seconds, baby, you got it!" he hollered back, and Steve looked over his shoulder, brows pinched.

"Godsend!" she shouted back, and faced forward, guzzling her water.

"Tell me something I don't know!" he said back, and she cackled, nearly tripping.

"What's that about?" Steve said, keeping her pace, thumb stopping his own water from splashing out everywhere. She had drank enough that it sloshed, but only the scarce few drops escaped.

"Every day-" she grinned at him, cheeky. "Gives me a - bottle'a water - keeps my times - tells me 'f I get - any faster."

"Oh." he said. "I see."

"I just cut - twenty seconds." she went on cheerfully.

"That's good." he said, but he clearly wasn't feeling it and she wasn't sure why that made her try and outrun him on the circuit back.

She ran past Howard's office the next day, while Steve was called into rehearsals.

He waved dutifully, but there was no smile. And when she rounded again, his head was down at the desk. She thought it was strange. But, if she was paranoid and he was just working hard like she knew him to do, she'd interrupt him if she did anything about it. So she finished her paces and had a shower, deciding to leave him alone for the day.

He only spoke to her about advanced nuclear mechanics and muscular engineering and left early to hole up in his office, and she decided it was probably just something he was stuck on, something he was working on. She'd leave him be.

She left him be for just four more days, then lost her temper and didn't knock so much as punch his door several times after her run.

"Hi." he said mildly. There was no friendly twinkle in his eye, no smile. "Can I help you with something?"

She blinked at him.

"Are you drunk?" she said evenly.

He blanched like she'd hit him.

"No?"

"Are you sick?"

"No..."

"Intensely busy?"

"No more than usual, you know -"

"Then where's my water?"

There was a smile trembling on the corner of his mouth. She watched him swallow it back.

"Sorry about that, ba-...Sorry. I'm working."

She studied his face. There wasn't guilt, but he'd been chastised.

"Someone's said something to you." she concluded. "Who?"

He didn't answer.

"Sharp as a tack, Lewis."

"Who said something, Howie?"

It was their little thing. No one else called him Howie and in private, he called her by her given name. He said such a nice name shouldn't be hidden, although she nearly pulled his mustache off when he first said 'Darcy', but as of late, she noticed he said 'Lewis' instead, more like she was one of the boys, and she was absolutely used to that, but-

Not from him.

"Don't, darling, just... Look, I'm upsetting the community, okay? I'm a no good, low down, dirty rotten scoundrel, alright? Everyone knows I like myself a dame, and you're hangin' around is makin' them think that you and I-"

"Who said it?" she pressed.

When he didn't answer, she started guessing, but he just shook his head, no, no, no.

"Well if it wasn't any one with any power -" she stopped. She'd listed the generals, the men in charge. The only other person of influence on their relationship, aside from appearances sake - "Steve. Steve said something, didn't he?"

"I didn't say that."

"You're not denying it, either." she studied his face. "Do you still want to be friends with me, Howie?"

"Of course I do, darlin', but your fella thinks I mean you no good." he shrugged. "Maybe I ain't any good."

"I'll be the judge of that." she said tightly, and stomped off.

She nearly tore down the big red curtain, shoving it out of her way to storm on stage, arch her brow and purse her mouth.

"CUUUUUT! Look lady, I've got a show to produce for New York and -"

She glared at him.

"You want a show? I'll give you a goddamn  _show_." she pointed at Steve, a girl balanced on each shoulder, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Let's go, solider boy."

"Darcy -" he let the blonde down first, followed swiftly by the brunette.

"March." she said, and swung aside, pointing to the barracks.

With a huge sigh, he went.

"Take five, everybody." he said, holding up a 'timeout' signal to the director, who threw up his script and let all the pages flutter down around him. They could hear him bemoaning his artistic endevour being lost on everyone the entire march to the bunks.

"Darcy," Steve said slowly, closing the flap of the tent behind him. "Why're we fighting?"

"We ain't fighting, Steve, but we ain't far off." she warned him, and put fists on her hips. "What did you say to Howard Stark about his conduct with me?"

His eyes flashed harder than diamonds.

"I just said that he should ease up a little with a dame who's already got a fella." he glanced at her fists. "Not that you act like it, any more."

"Are you kidding?" she said hotly.

He looked at his bright red boots.

"You... We don't..." he looked up from behind his lashes. "You don't even touch me, any more."

"I'm always sweaty, or grubby, or-" she waved her hands around, then something clicked in her brain. "Wait a second. Is this because it was my birthday?"

"No." he shook his head, wet his lower lip. "Yes. You didn't even remember, just mentioned it off-hand three days after the fact and - I just thought - well, you wanted to in Brooklyn, but you've been spending more and more time with Stark..."

"Jesus Christ." she said and put her hand to her head as a wave of dizziness crashed over her. "You think - you think I'm - sleepin', with Howard?"

"I know you wouldn't," he said, holding up his hands. "I know you haven't. I just-..." he swallowed, looked devastated.

"You just what?" she didn't want to sound soft, but that's how it came out.

He shifted, looked her dead in the eye.

"Whenever I kiss you, you cringe." he said, quietly. "And whenever we talk, you talk about him. So... If you've stopped lovin' me, Darcy, please just say so."

She just stared, for a long second.

"You're the only fella ta ever pick me up and love me just how I am," she said slowly. "Why the hell would I ever stop loving you? How could I give up on that?" she frowned at him.

"You  _know_  I'm busy. Working."

"You just spend a lotta time together, is all. A lotta time, for work. Even off work hours."

"Because I ain't got no friends left!" she took a breath, let it out, contained her volume. "I ain't got any friends, here. Only you 'n' Peggy 'n' Howard. That's it. And we're all busy - Peggy's doin' her thing with the SSR halfa time I see her she looks exhausted. Howard's - I'm - we, are busy, tryna copy Erskine's work so I can finally be put in that god awful machine and be  _enough_  for you!"

He blinked at her. Pieces of the puzzle started coming together in his head, and she wanted to take the words back.

"You think you aren't enough for me?" he said, very quietly.

"Don't look at me like that." she warned him. "Stop it, right now."

"You think that somethin's changed cuz a the way I look now?" his tone was very soft and it made her cringe.

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what you mean." he studied her. "You think I'm what, worth more'n you because I'm big now?"

"I didn't say that, Steve."

"So you're - you're trying to catch up with all the training. That's why you won't stop, that's why you push so hard. Darcy. Moxie." he tilted his head at her, and she narrowly avoided punching him in the throat (because his face was too high to land anything serious). "Baby."

"Don't." she said through her teeth, glaring up at him. He shook his head slowly, almost entirely softening, his big shoulders hunching forward. "Don't you dare, Steve Rogers. I never said any o' that."

"But that's what you're thinkin', huh?" he said dully. He swallowed, she saw his Adam's apple bop. "Darcy, I love you. I'm always gonna love you. No matter what I look like, or what you look like-"

"Stop it." she said, sharply. "I know that already. Stop it."

"You been workin' so hard, baby-"

"Stop, Steve." she said, and cut her hands through the air. She was having a hard time breathing. Her head was spinning. "That's it. That's enough. I don't wanna do this with you, I needta have a break, need to walk away 'fore I say somethin' stupid." and she stomped past, almost at the tent opening when he spoke.

"If you wanna break off with me," he said slowly. "I understand. I get it. But I wish you'd tell me if you did."

"Break-..." it was like he'd shot her, when he said that. She stopped walking, turned so hard the room tilted on an axis. She grabbed the stick holding the tent up. "Do you wanna-?"

"I don't." he said quickly. "I love you. I've always loved you and I always will. Please - just, don't make this hard. You wanna break up, do it, do it now."

"You think I..." she felt the stick slide out of her hand. "You think I wanna...?"

"Darcy?" his arms scooped around her. She hadn't even realized she was falling. "Baby? Hey, hey, look at me."

"I-" she put her hand to his cheek, but her bicep was trembling so hard her arm dropped to her chest. "I didn't - I don't want -"

"Darcy, what's wrong, baby? What's happening?" he was desperate, frantic, framing her face with his too warm hand. "Sweetheart, say something? Anything?"

She was shaking. Everything was spinning, and she couldn't quite make out what was happening because Steve and his fantastic new arms hoisted her up. There was wind, bright and cold against her face, as he ran faster than he'd ever done on their circuit together.

Howard's head hovered over her vision.

"Some kinda fit-" Steve said thickly.

"...Fuel..." Howard was saying, something about her needing sustenance for good machines, and his mustache was twitching. When was the last time she ate? When was the last drink of water she had? She couldn't speak. It seemed like a lot of effort to speak.

A doctor swung over her vision, and she blinked at them slowly. A sharp sting in her arm informed her of an intravenous, and she scowled, taking it by the tube and yanking it back out again. Someone held her arm, but she flat out just punched him in the face. Then Steve's hands were clamping, too hot around her forearms, and she struggled, kicking the doctor away, when Howard pressed his forearms over her shins and pressed down.

Her breathing was loud, even to her.

"Get - offa - me!" she heaved, with all her might, managed to loose one foot from Howard, kick a doctor right in the solar plexus. "Get offa- STEVE! Let me- GO!" she pulled her shoulder up, lifted her hips off the bed, saw the needle, and screamed shortly, digging her heels into the mattress, trying to buck him off.

Howard was talking, Steve's eyes were firm, hands tightening the harder she pulled.

"-Baby, make you better, make you all better, babydoll, hold still - "

The needle pinched in the back of her hand and she shrieked, wriggled her ankle free from Howard and lashed out with her leg, so Steve clamped both her wrists in his single hand and stretched down, locking his forearm over her thighs. She whimpered when they came at her with a bigger needle, and someone said something, muffled under her breathing.

"Gett offa- Steve, Steve, get off me!" she was saying, as darkness blurred the edges of her vision. "Get off - lemme go-"

There was a quiet affirmative and Steve's weight and heat was gone, making her hand fly to the needle. She fumbled at it for a second before he took her hand, pulled it to his mouth, pressing kisses against her fist.

"If she can't calm herself down," the doctor was saying in a hard voice. "We're going to need to sedate her."

"Darcy, honey," Howard was at one side, holding her arm at the joint of her elbow. "You're gonna sweat out what little water you got in you, you gotta calm down, doll."

"Lemme go-!" she spat, and he did. She took a second to turn her face away, breathing heavily, Steve's mouth still kissing her hand. "Steve, please!"

"I'm sorry." he dropped his head down to her cheek, cradling her hand to his chest. "I'm sorry, baby."

Her bottom lip trembled. She turned her face further into the pillow, away from him, trying very hard not to cry. He stayed with his head down on her temple, whispering his apologies against her skin, too warm, but she missed him when he was gone, mumbling noises and reaching back for him when he pulled away.

He kept his hand over hers, thumb sweeping across her reddening knuckles, while she shut her eyes and listening to the hullabaloo next door of a doctor getting his nose set.

* * *

It took her hours to find consciousness again.

Howard was sat on one side with his leg kicked up, book and pen balanced on his thigh, glasses perched on the end of his nose. Steve was on her right, elbows on his knees, one hand still cradling hers.

"Well Jesus, boys," she croaked. "I ain't dead."

"Darcy." Steve surged forward, free hand hovering nervously over her hair. He settled on her skull, smoothing her fringe. "How do you feel, baby?"

She thought about that.

"Tired." she murmured, deciding honest might be the best way to go.

"So you should be." Howard said sternly, getting to his feet. He turned the book around, full of facts and figures she couldn't make sense of without context. "You see this, Lewis?"

"Well blindness ain't a symptom, so..."

His mustache twitched.

"This is basic caloric intake. This was yours when I observed you eating. This is how much you burn when you put yourself through a regular circuit, how much you should take to be healthy." his voice went a notch harder, when he motioned to the minus area of the equations. "Do you wanna do the honor of mentioning what that means to Steve, or shall I?"

She shrugged one shoulder.

"No?" he said. "What did I tell you about good machines?"

"Need fuel." she mumbled, sheepish.

"Are you a good machine, Darcy?"

"No." she said through her teeth. "I'm a goddamn human being-"

"You're a goddamn mess, is what you are!" he said sharply, and shook the pages in front of her face. "You know what I've been doing for the last three hours? Sittin' here making the figures up to see what you've done to yourself! You know what I got from this?" he shook the book, then threw it across the room.

"You haven't been eating, you haven't been drinking, you haven't been sleeping-"

"I sleep!" she said hotly. "I sleep like a rock!"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE WEARING YOURSELF OUT." he made angry claws at her, then shoved his arms over his chest. "You're not  _Steve_ , how many times I gotta tell ya?!"

"I know that." she said through her teeth.

"So stop pushing yourself!" he retorted. "You're only human! Even machines need to rest!"

She scoffed at him. Then she scoffed again, because he was an idiot. But he was a smart idiot, and he was her friend, and he was looking at her like she was the salt of the earth for hurting herself.

"I don't have anything else to do." she muttered, and dropped her eyes to where Steve was holding onto her hand. "No good resting if it's all I do. Machines serve a purpose. I'm useless."

"You think the work we do is useless?" Howard demanded.

"Well we ain't gettin' any where, are we?" she snapped back, hackles up. "I could learn engines and hyper-hydrating molecular cells, but I can't understand why the goddamn serum won't work!"

"Time!" Howard said, and his mustache twinged. "We need time-"

"We don't need time. We're not good enough. I'm not good enough, I'm clearly weighing you down, when you gotta take a break from actually finding out how this whole thing worked to teach me proper names for shit. You're wasting time on me. Time we got, we got it in spades, but we don't need it." she snorted. "We need Dr. Erskine."

There was a long pause. Steve sank down into a chair beside her, picking up her hand in both of his, pressing a kiss to each knuckle.

"It's my fault." he said softly. "I let this whole thing get away from us. I let us work apart. I didn't keep an eye on you-"

"I'm an adult," she said firmly. "I don't need you to-"

"You do," he said, and stopped her speech with just the calmest inflection. "Because if you didn't, you wouldn't be here."

Her chin wobbled.

"You were busy." she said. "I'm used to being alone."

"Well that's not good enough." he said mildly. "I should've been better. Should've been there."

"You're goddamn right you should've, Captain Ass-hat." Howard said shortly. "Instead of pushin' me off you shoulda let me tell you what was wrong with your girl. I wasn't making any moves, I was tryin' to make sure  _this_ didn't happen."

"I know." Steve murmured. "I know that now. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark."

Howard wasn't used to people being honest with him. He stared at Steve's head for a long time, before saying:

"Friends call me Howard."

"Howard." Steve repeated, and stuck out his hand. "Captain Ass-hat. Nice to meet you."

Darcy just huffed as Howard cracked a grin and shook his hand.

"You." Howard pointed at her, voice dropping. "You're in trouble with me. You think you aren't doing enough, sugar? I'm gonna give you homework for  _weeks_."

"Sure." she said, and shrugged. She blinked warily, yawned and shifted back into her pillows. "Can I deal with it later?"

"After you rest up, you aren't gonna have a choice." he patted her foot, looked at Steve, tilting his head. "I'll tell the director you're off."

"Thank you, Howard. I mean it. I'm grateful."

"So you should be. You got a helluva girl there, Captain. Be a shame to let her wear herself out."

"Don't I know it?" he said, and smiled at the elder man the entire way out. He turned to Darcy, the happiness fading, huge shoulders sagging, eyes wide and blue and sad.

"You charm e'rryone like that, I'm gonna need to invest in a bat to fight 'em off." she muttered, and flexed her hand at him. "C'mere."

He went. Bowing into the chair, putting his hands up on hers, tightening a fraction when she saw the intravenous in her opposite hand and mewled to pull it out.

"Don't, Mox." he said. "Don't make me hold you back. It broke my heart enough the first time."

And that...

"Goddammit, Steve, stop using those eyes on me." she muttered, and squeezed his thumb, giving him a wobbly smile. "I can hardly remember. It's mostly a blur, like m' head's underwater. I remember... punchin' someone."

"Dr. Clearwater. You broke his nose."

"Whoops."

"I had to hold your arms down. You were kicking and screaming, and beggin' me to let you go. Screamin' my name like I was the worst thing in your world. Tryin'a fight me, but you were so weak, you were crying... I never, never wanna see you like that again. Never wanna be a part of it, not ever again." he bent his head to her turned wrist, kissing the delicate inside.

"I don't remember it like that." she muttered, pink in the face. "I don't remember cryin'."

"You were." he said softly. "So please, don't make me a part of that."

She gulped, nodded, looked around.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Can you get me some water?"

He kissed the inside of her wrist before he stood.

"Course, honey."

They weren't okay - there were things that still had to be said. But she was tired, so, so tired, and he didn't look like he wanted to do anything than what she told him to do.

"And Steve?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Get up in here with me. What's a girl gotta do to get some heat in here?"

* * *

Howard found them like that upon his return with stacks of books for Darcy to study, Steve's huge bulk laid out flat on the bed, the girl morphed to his side like a creeping vine. She was more on top of him than in her own space, legs locked around one large thigh and head pillowed in the curve of his shoulder.

He sat the books down, and went to get a camera.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a couple of you have mentioned being excited to see Bucky again... so you have to wait for another chapter ;)

She recovered fairly quickly.

Howard, of course, watched her like a hawk, took her to lunch and dinner every single day; Steve made a point to eat breakfast with her, no matter what she tried, he was there like a big blond shadow with two plates full of food and his big blue eyes and  _ridiculous_  lashes.

The doctor whose nose she broke wanted her out of his medical bay as quickly as possible, so he made sure she was fit and healthy and fed up to par in ways she hadn't felt since Howard had sent her home with two day's worth of food.

And she studied - boy, did she study. Howard had marked out little sections of every book with numerical values that she had to figure out so that she could read them in the order he wanted - and she didn't know if he did it on purpose or not, but a lot of her homework ended up being poured into her actual work, making her understand things in terms of words, not just point A to point B.

It made her feel intellectually capable in the midst of the pretty doctorate awarded scientists, able to have a fully fledged conversation about energy conversion theories and hypothetical questions about Steve's new abilities. She made a few friends - Teddy Tonks, James Hammer and Mortacai (something Darcy couldn't pronounce) - who showed her the finer points of card counting and smoking cigars.

With friends, a full belly, and a new found grasp on Science!... Darcy found home in ways she'd never felt on a farm.

Things weren't spoken about. The 'Howard' problem was never addressed. He would talk to him, and the two men could behave themselves in totality, but there was a degree of tension that never fully leaked from them.

It didn't matter.

Darcy was just happy she had her fella back, more or less, between the political schmoozing and the fancy dances he did in his little blue booty shorts.

* * *

Steve's show that day was particularly bad; in the middle of a war torn country, with weary men who'd seen too much and done so little, they just wanted the pretty girls, not the big guy in the flashy booty shorts to try and sell them war bonds.

She'd been looking for him - his confidence had peaked in the shows, but it wouldn't have taken much to shatter. She'd only just managed to sneak away from Howard's office when he tore around the corner and marched over to her.

"I ate," she said, putting her hands up. "I swear."

"What does the 107th mean to you?" he said sharply.

"My daddy's in." something very cold clenched around her heart. "Why? What's news?"

"None good." he said, and jerked his head, already jogging back. "Suit up and follow. You're in for a battle before you even go to war."

"The hell?" she muttered, and jogged after him. She went into her tent and pulled on her dark trousers with the fitted waist, tucking her white tank into it, dog tags wedged into her bra. She tied her laces tight up half her calves and was still pulling on her dark shirt when she jogged toward Howard, who skipped around the corner to see Steve was pulling on his boots.

He glared at Howard.

"You  _told_  her?"

"I figure it's somethin' she's gonna want to know. She's got rights," Howard said, motioning between them both. "Sort it out between you."

"You were gonna leave without me t' go and what? Play at bein' a hero?" she said flatly, and put her fists on her hips. "Really?"

"Yes, really." he stood, and holy Jesus, he was  _big_. "I'm going in alone. It's suicide."

"So you were gonna go off and die and think I wasn't gonna follow. Huh." she folded arms across her chest, watched him stop moving, turning to stare at her. "Didn't take you for much of a dummy, but here we are."

"Darcy-"

"My daddy's in there, Steve. You're not goin' without me."

There was a long pause.

"When I get back," he promised, and reached for his prop shield, some stupid looking thing that belonged in a show, not on her fella's back when he was talking real war and suicide. "We can talk then."

"I got three brothers who said the exact same thing." she said in a hard voice. "They're dead. I got three more on the line, not to mention Bucky, and I haven't had word from any of 'em in months. You hear what I'm sayin'?"

"Sweetheart," he said, with forced patience, stalking towards the helicopter. "We don't have time to argue."

"So don't argue. Let me go with you." he wasn't even looking back at her. "You're supposed to be on my side, Steve."

His head went down. He turned to look at her, mouth pitched in a frown.

"I am on your side. I'm on the side of keeping you safe."

"You can't keep me safe when you're behind enemy lines and I'm all the way back here." she reminded him, and folded her arms over her person.

"You can take care of anything these men throw at you." he told her, face set and very serious. "Don't play the damsel when you're the dragon, honey."

"You gonna take away my chance to fight, Captain?" she asked him, very inch of her tone dangerous and daring. "Gonna tell me to be a good little girl and be seen, not heard?"

"That's not it." he said tightly. "Not it at all, and you should know me better."

"You go, I go. That's always been the deal." and because she did know him, she knew exactly what to say to get right up his nose about it. "I got training just as much as you. Maybe a bit more, cuz you're off dancing around all the time."

She could see him clench his teeth. Peggy looked like she might object at that point, but she went on.

"My daddy, Steve." she said quietly. "He might be in there. And you know I love Bucky as my brother just as much as you do, y'hear me? Don't take this away. Don't tell me I ain't good enough."

He didn't say anything for a long second, just lifted his glare from Darcy to Howard, who was inspecting his nails and wondering how so much of his workshop ended up on his hands. He'd known the outcome the second Steve had told him  _not to mention this to Moxie or I'll be in the dog house_.

"You follow my lead." Steve said tightly, bright eyes fixed on her face. "I say jump-"

"I say 'aye aye, Captain'." she saluted, and marched forward to stand beside him, looking up at his face. She could read him like a book, the line between his brow that said: 'I am fully aware you just played me like a fiddle and I am not impressed'.

"If I say we get out-"

"We're out." she assured him, and reached out to squeeze his hand. "Let's bring our boys back, huh?"

* * *

She was basically vibrating.

All sorts of things were running through her mind, and she was 80% sure that it was total _terror._  But the rest was good stuff, like excitement and preparedness, and mentally fortifying herself to shoot at people.

Could she shoot someone?

Oh, yeah.

Could she kill someone?

She studied Steve from under her lashes, watching him clench his jaw and fiddle with his guns and check and double check his harnesses. Howard kept swiveling around to look at her, and when she caught his eye, his mustache slanted in an easy smile, and he jerked his head to indicate that she should go up with him.

"Didn't know you knew how to fly." she mentioned, staring with big eyes at all of the buttons and controls. "Oh, wow-ee, Howie."

"Thank you. This is one of my earlier attempts, which is why it was at the back of the pack and easy to borrow." he said brightly, maneuvering out of his head gear to look at her, one brow up. "And flying is almost a breeze. I'll show you the basics, sometime."

"Yeah, between all the other homework I got, not sure how that's gonna happen." she tilted her head. "Not sure I even like drivin' cars, let alone a plane."

"Baby, you put your mind to it, you're capable of anything." he told her. "Which is why you're gonna be just fine, Lewis. Stop with The Face."

"What face?" she frowned at him.

"The Face.  _That_  face. Stop it." he waved a hand at her like he was inches away from physically wiping his grubby paw over her mouth. "The 'I'm an incapable girl', face."

She looked at him very evenly.

"I got halfa a mind to punch you."

"But you didn't disagree, did you? Lewis, baby, come  _on_. I wouldn't have mentioned it if I had of ever thought you were incapable. You've got your training. You're built of strong stuff. And, you've even got Captain Ass-hat to keep an eye on you." his smile was bright. The glitter in his eyes positively  _manic_. "I got good odds on you. If I were a betting man-"

"Of which you are." Peggy reminded him, casually staring at the back of his head.

"If I were betting man who bet on his friends, all the money I got?" he grinned. "Would be on you."

It made her feel better. She wasn't so much 80% terror, any more. At least 72%, but the rest was some how at ease.

She swooped down to give him a kiss on the cheek, punched his arm without any heat, and returned to her seat beside the Captain.

"So." Steve was nodding at Peggy, like something was computing in his brain. "You two... fondue."

Peggy sort of, pursed her mouth at Darcy, her brow raising an increment. Darcy just shook her head, mouthed: 'he's being polite', and made a very crude hand gesture at her to bridge the gap.

"Oh." Peggy said. "Oh, no. Howard and I are good friends."

"But we do, do fondue." Howard mentioned, looking every inch a little shit and turning to see his face. "Friends can fondue, too. I'll fondue you."

Steve just blinked, very slowly, and said: "I'm not so sure... I like your fondue, Mr. Stark."

"Please, it's Howard." his face was awfully straight. "If we'll be founding, you should call me by my first name."

Darcy's terror levels were at 60%. It was a good percentage to have, before jumping out of a plane into an active war zone while her fella was dressed up in the approximation of the enemy flag. She leaned into his side, wrapping both arms around one of his stupidly large biceps, and put her head to the part of his shoulder she could reach.

"It's okay, honey." she said sweetly. "I'll be there to fondue you too."

Steve sighed shortly, smiling, looking a little flummoxed but not as alarmed.

"Oh, that's alright then." he mused. "S'long as my best girl's there. I don't mind at all."

Peggy didn't make a naw noise, but her face certainly did.

There was a very happy moment, there, a shared giggles and chuckles moment, where Steve realized he had clearly misunderstood something but was playing along with the easy teasing - but the weight of the situation settled over them like a heavy, smothering blanket, as gunfire started up, nicking the wings of the plane.

"Alrighty, love birds," Howard said, his voice suddenly hard, hands flicking switches and pulling dials. "Time to take wing."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, not sure when I'm going to post next, because LIFE... Like two days tops?
> 
> Have a long one ;)

They'd have a better chance of not being shot if they were separated, but Steve strapped her to his chest and pressed a kiss on her face and threw them both out of the plane.

Falling like that, with Steve on her back, warm and solid, wasn't really like falling at all - it was like being suspended, somehow, like observing from above, some kind of avenging angel. She felt _grounded_  with the heat of him at her back, felt like it was a dream, a floaty, pleasant dream, even if the free fall was extremely fast and all the wind was kind of hurting her face.

Steve yanked the chute, angled his body to steer, while she held on and kept an eye on everything, right until a bullet whizzed past her head.

"Uh, honey?"

"Yeah, I know!"

Another bullet flew between their legs.

"Woah, that's getting a little close!"

"No kidding." he muttered, and - quite impressively - pulled hard on one of the hooks leading up into the chute, making them spin down in a wide arc.

They landed fairly easily - despite losing their communication system in the process, which was pretty bad but better than losing say, an  _eye_  - although Darcy found that all her limbs were shaking from the adrenaline. Steve unbuckled them, told her to wait in the trees, and went first and foremost into enemy territory with a flimsy shield for cover.

And she did wait, patiently, with focus enough to make her sweat, staring after him, wanting her eyes to see past the leaves on the trees and the darkness. She waited, really, she did.

But the Nazis?

She spun just in time to knock his weapon away, socking him in the guts as he made ugly sounding commands. Winded, she pitched him forward, throwing him down the incline and turning to duck as a bright burst of blue lit up the tree she'd been hiding behind. Her ears ringing, she scrambled forward only to get booted in the shoulder, making her flip hard onto her back.

A barrel was aimed at her face, and she froze, her terror levels back up in the _I'M GOING TO DIE%_.

Funnily, there was no instinct, no clear moment of rebellion. She'd been on the receiving ends of fists and kicks her whole life, been on the other end of a shot gun and a tiny rifle to shoot away foxes from the sheep on the farm. There was no real physical reaction, to being flat on her back in hard snow, with a Nazi holding a gun at her head.

Just a thought. The single thought.

_Howie's gonna be out of pocket, now._

He was talking to her, the Nazi, in low, harsh German. If she had the presence of mind to listen to the cadence, she'd recognize the prayer for what it was. Maybe, if she had've, she wouldn't have done what she did, which was steal the knife from the holster at his ankle and stab him in the foot.

She launched, tackled him at the knees, making him drop like a sack of bricks, before yanking his weapon away and pointing the barrel down, sitting astride his chest. There was only a brief moment, a tiny pause.

Could she kill a man?

When the bolt lit him up, his entire body dissipated with unfathomable heat that seared the insides on her thighs. She had to pack snow around them, hold it there, and hobbled to the pit where she had tossed the other guy down. He was rolling around, holding his leg.

When he saw her with the gun, he scrambled for his own, and lit up like a firework when she shot him.

She was still standing there, pointing at the floor with snow clenched between her legs, when she heard Steve hollering her name. He gently pried the gun out of her hands and framed her face, kissing the bridge of her nose, both cheeks, and her eyes. He saw the two blue-black smoke marks in the snow, saw the impact of what she'd done hanging in her eyes.

"Are you hurt?" he whispered.

"Mm." she looked down, brushed snow from her legs, swallowed heavily. First kills were nothing to sneeze at, but she had to shake it off, had to be present in the moment, for herself and for her Steve. "Don't know what that gun's got in. Fascinating structure, though. We should take one or two back and see what makes it tick."

"Alright." he said slowly, and kissed her mouth, gently, carefully. "Alright. Let's go."

She took a very deep breath in, shut her eyes tightly, hoped that any god listening could hear how sorry she was, the panic and the moment, and he was gonna kill her first, so really, she wasn't... she wasn't a murderer, really, she wasn't...

She swallowed and trotted down the incline back to him, snow crunching loudly under her boots. She couldn't figure how, if he was so heavy with all his new muscles, how he was making less noise than her. She cringed at every footfall, and felt the ghost of Nazis following her, but every time she looked there was nothing there. They jogged in to the base, keeping low, bent at the waist.

It was significantly easier for her than for him.

"You alright?" he said out the corner of his mouth.

"Killed two of 'em." she said, rather easily. "Thought I'd feel... different."

"Me too." he replied, and glanced at her, studying her features. "You okay?"

"What's the plan, Captain?" she said patiently.

He made an unhappy Steve face, put didn't push.

"You find the POWs. I'll take out the snipers in the north and south towers-"

"You want me to go into an active Nazi facility and walk out with our boys?"

"All of 'em." he agreed.

"Well. Gotta say, baby, I was expecting more coddling."

He just looked at her.

"You're a solider, same as me." he said, and she thought his eyes looked very proud of that fact. "Get in. Get out. Stay safe."

"Easy as pie." she murmured, and leaned forward, stealing a kiss before she looked up like a meer kat. "Don't get shot."

"You don't get shot." he muttered, and waved her through before he pranced away. The gun was heavy, her helmet made her hair itch. She was sweating and the smell of the metal in her hands was making her feel on edge, like she was covered in blood, although there wasn't any, from the blue light rays.

Her brain was kicked into high gear as a result of all the adrenaline, working on five different levels all at once. It was just so noisy. She saw the main precinct, saw that yes, Steve had taken out the guards in the towers, and there were only two soldiers to stand in her way. She -... was not, ready, to kill again.

And before she could think of any other way, her brain just said: 'You know what's a good idea?'

She pulled off her helmet, unzipped her shirt down to her waist, tucked her tags more securely in her bra, and left the weapon behind.

Her tits had always been a hindrance, might as well get some use out of them.

It took her precisely twenty seconds to get enough guts to go round the corner and make distressed damsel noises, use her - what did Howard call it? Her 'I'm an incapable girl' face, and throw her hands up with a gasp. She let the guards storm toward her and pull out her tags, lingering a touch too long on the swell of her chest. The other one not staring at her cleavage grabbed her arms and held on while the other with the grabby hands spoke over her head in German - then he smacked her face.

And for a split second, she was  _gonna kick his balls up through his mouth_ , but  _this was the plan, Darcy, don't blow it now_.

"Bad girl, run away!" he said, and took one of her arms in both hands. "Back you go!"

"No, no, please, don't take me back!" it was very easy to let them drag her, barely struggling. "No, no, please, God!"

How else was she going to find the soldiers in prison?

How about if she was taken to, the prison?

Easy as pie.

(Steve was gonna kill her if the Nazis didn't get a go first.)

They unlocked the door and the sheer amount of men that scrambled to the cage doors made Darcy just a touch glad that she was being dragged, because her legs went loose. There were a few heroic: "Hey, you  _let the lady go_!'s and more than a few angry: "Hands off the dame, ya  _swear, swear, derogatory comment!_ "s. The guard leveled a gun at the cages and banged the bars, shouting so harshly that spit flew through his lips and onto the POW's.

It made her feel sick.

What made her feel even sicker was a particularly familiar voice that said:

"Mox?"

Her head cracked, she swiveled so hard. She planted her feet, and the guard carrying her jolted, not expecting the resistance.

"Daddy?"

" _Moxie_!" two large hands shot out from behind the bars, but the face wasn't the same, too hairy and grubby, too thin and worn.

The guards tried to drag her forward, collectively now, and she was strong and fit now, but she still struggled.

"Hang on, daddy, just gimme a-" She rammed her shoulder into one gut, yanking her arm free to spin around and punch the other so hard in the goggles they shattered.

If his scream was any indication, it hurt him more than it hurt her - the noise alerted the guards upwards, who could hardly see, but shouted in harsh German and pointed their weapons with purpose.

She drove her elbow into the other throat, out rightly took his handgun, and spun his back to the door so that when she put a bullet in his chest, it didn't hit anyone on the way out. The guard still screaming about the glass in his face got a kick in the groin and shot between the eyes, aimed down at the ground. She did throw up in her mouth, a little bit, but swallowed it, and didn't inhale, didn't want to smell the burnt blood.

Then she tucked the gun in her waistband, and wrapped hands around the bars.

"You okay, daddy?"

"Mox!" he whisper screamed. His hands, big and filthy, eclipsed her face. "What're you doin' here, darlin'?"

"Comin' t' save you lot, is what I'm doin' here." she said mildly. She touched his face, tracing the hard, sun warmed lines in his cheeks and brow. "How'd you end up in so much goddamn trouble?"

"Whatchyer mouth." he said weakly. His ham like hands nearly eclipsed her whole skull. She felt so safe, she relaxed, leaned her head to the bars. "Jesus, Mox, how'd you get here? How's your mother?"

"Uh, daddy, now's not really the time-" She and had to drag herself away, patting the guards pockets for keys. A shot punched through the concrete next to her foot, and she dropped back, bringing up the gun and holding it up to return fire. "Sonuva-!"

The guard cried out, her bullet dropping him but not killing him. His blood spilled into the prison, and she knew it did because the POWs made a wide circle around it, pressing against the bars. There was more rapid German, then she dove and rolled across the room and picked up one of the big guns, the burn-y guns she couldn't figure out, and shut him up with a burst of bright blue that made all the steel melt around it.

The door at the opposite end of the hall kicked in, and she leveled the gun at it, ready to pull the trigger.

He was lucky she recognized the suit, because the barrel was trained on his skull before she saw his face.

"Steve-!" she voice shot up a pitch. "You idiot, I nearly  _shot you_!"

"Well - " he looked around, saw the felled guards and the many men. "Glad you didn't."

"Snipers down in both towers?" she said, slinging the weapon over her shoulder before raiding the guards' pockets.

"You bet." he was looking around when she forced a gun into his hands. "And the ones in between. We're clear up top."

"I haven't seen Buck." she said urgently. "But, uh, there's someone I'd like you to meet." she went over to the bars, unlocked it with trembling hands and shoved the keys to the first person out, barking at him to get everyone out of their prisons.

He looked at her stupid, until the reverberating bellow:

"GODS SAKE, BOY, DON'T MAKE HER ASK TWICE!"

He jolted and did as he was told.

"Steve," she said, then vaulted and wrapped her arms around a terrifyingly huge man. "This is my daddy. Daddy," she opened her arm and swung aside so that the man could size him up.

"This is my Steve."

"An honor, sir." Steve said, and struck a meaty handshake.

While Steve was in his own right, quite large, and certainly taller than William Lewis, he was not bigger in the arms or in the shoulders. Her father had indeed bulked up and lost fat since leaving home, but his face was swollen with bruises and he was missing a few of his teeth.

"Your, Steve?" he said in a rumble, and gave him such a Darcy look that Steve would've picked him out of a crowd as her infamous father, even with the wiry beard and bushy grey-black brows.

"Yeah. We're uh, you know. Together." she looked around. "You seen a brunette, loud mouth? Blue eyes, stupid face. Name's Bucky?"

"Barnes? Heh. That little shit." the man put his arm around her shoulders. "Went off coupla days ago. Haven't seen him since."

"What'd you mean, 'went off'?" Steve said tightly.

"They took him." he nodded to the entrance Darcy had been dragged through. Must've been down the other hall, because there were only two ways to go and Darcy had seen one of them first hand.

"Daddy," she said, before Steve could press. "Do me a favor, get these men outta here. Snipers are down in the towers, but there'll be more on foot."

"Where d'you think you're goin'?" he growled. "I ain't lettin' you outta my sight, girly, so don't you-"

"Daddy." she said flatly, and fixed him with a glare. "I ain't twelve. I got army training now."

"So do I." he said. "And I say you-"

"I say you take these men and get outta here." Steve informed him, meeting the resulting glare with a firm shake of his head. "Your rank, solider?"

"First Lieutenant Lewis."

"Captain Rogers." he said, oddly formal. "Now, Lieutenant, I suggest you keep the injured or suffering to the middle, bracket them with the willing and able bodied. Collect weapons but do not engage unless under attack. Take a right, follow that pipe-" he motioned vaguely upward, where William's eyes tracked a gas main. "-And you'll get out. Hide out in the trees and we'll join you shortly."

William's eye twitched.

"If you think I'm gonna leave my girl in your hands, boy, you gotta 'nuther thing comin'."

"Now, daddy." Darcy said, cocking her gun. "I'm in my own goddamn hands."

The man stared at her for a long second, then swept her under one arm, giving her a hard kiss on the head. She clapped his back, oddly masculine, and nodded to him.

"We're gonna have  _words_." he told Steve, wagging his finger at him.

"Better'n fists." Darcy said.

"Those too." William assured her, and turned to the men. "RIGHT. YOU LOT. I WANT ABLE AND WILLING SINGLE FILE. THOSE HURT IN THE MIDDLE. WE'RE GETTIN' THE FUCK OUTTA HERE."

There was a massive cheer.

Steve nodded to the Lieutenant, and together, he and Darcy jogged out of the prison.

"This way." she said, taking him down.

"How'd you know?"

"Uhm." she batted her lashes at him. "I flipped a coin?"

"You're a bad liar, baby." he muttered.

"Okay, so I maybe, got the girls out and let myself get caught?"

"Jesus  _Christ_ , Mox!" his glare was diamond hard and just as pretty.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"They could've - what if they had've -... Jesus Christ,  _Moxie_."

"You only call me Moxie when I'm in trouble." she muttered.

"That's cuz your moxie usually gets you in trouble," he retorted, but jogged on with her, trying not to be frustrated with her pace.

They came to a series of rooms that made them halt - they were washed with unpleasant greens and yellows in what used to be white paint. There was steel and glass everywhere, smelling more like a wrong kind of hospital than anything in a war. She saw a room full of metal structures like weapons but... not. She nodded at it, and Steve agreed, going in the opposite direction.

From what Darcy could gather, it was some kind of brain scan. But there were needles, and a dark serum in vials by the table. She felt her heart drop right into the pit of her stomach to ferment in acid when she saw a scatter of pages on the desk beside her with Bucky's tags on. She swiped them, held them tightly in her fist, and put it to her mouth, shutting her eyes.

If they'd hurt Bucky...

Wiping away sudden, frightened tears, she looked around, running her thumb hard over the indents in the metal. Darcy unscrewed the needles from the tubes and shoved four of the sealed vials in the belt around her waist, determined and trying not to think too much, which was like trying not to  _breathe_. Howard could analyse it, figure out what they'd shot him up with, he'd be okay. Howard knew things, knew people, even if his biology was only mediocre, he'd know someone who could do something...

"Darcy!" Steve.

She ran, Bucky's tags in her hand, not ready for bad news, not ready to see...

"Bucky." she said gently, and his eyes came down from staring dazedly at Steve to her face. He stared at her for a long moment, unsure. She took long strides and got to him, buried her face in his chest. "Bucky, you little shit. I told you I'd come down here and drag you out by your ear."

She leaned back, put his dog tags around his lowered head. He stared at them, then cracked a familiar grin.

"Hiya, Moxie..." he frowned. "They took my watch."

"I'll get you another one, lazy ass." she took one of his arms and put it around her shoulders to steady him. "What've you been doin', huh, lyin' around? Don't cha know we got prisons to break?"

Steve put Bucky's other arm up around his shoulders, making the smaller man frown at the side of his head, and stare without blinking at his chest.

"What happened to you?" his head only slightly lolling. He looked at Darcy. "I thought he was smaller?"

Steve shrugged.

"I joined the army."

Darcy snorted through her nose, shot him a cheeky grin around Bucky's front.

"Uh huh. Why's she here?" he frowned even harder. "Did you sneak her in?"

"Hey. I got accepted, same as you."

He looked at Steve.

"How?"

The barrel of a gun poked around the corner. Darcy knocked it up, aiming it to the roof, then spun from under Bucky's arm to drive her elbow into the man's chest. She yanked the gun fair out of his hands, swung it up to catch him in the nose, then she spun and kneed the following Nazi in the stomach before he could raise the alarm. Two quick shots to their skulls with their own weapon, and they were dead.

She let the idea that they had stole and hurt Bucky fuel the fire in her chest. She let the idea that they were going to some how try and  _reprogram his brain_  fill her head.

"That's how." Steve said, and held onto Bucky tighter.

"Oh." Bucky nodded, blinking a lot. "Makes sense. Okay."

"C'mon." she said, feeling equally sick and rather excited at the boys at her back. It felt like coming together, all the pieces of her puzzle slotting neatly into place. She was honestly on a high - ignoring the very low place she was going to go when she realized she had killed seven men. She was so high she nearly ignored the bad guys, of whom they ran into.

Steve did try to use his words, but neither Nazi was having it.

When he casually reached up, and pulled his face off, Darcy was glad Bucky was squeezing her shoulders so tight, because she felt like her knees were going to go out from under her. She wanted, desperately, to hide her face away and pretend she hadn't seen it - but there was no point, because it was imprinted on her eyelids, possibly forever.

"Tell me," Bucky said. "Steve duddn't have one of those."

"Not that he's shown me." she muttered.

The dramatic part over, the bridge separated to part hero from villain. The trouble now was they had to find another way to get out of there, while the place started to fall apart around them, finding a thin beam for to waddle across.

"You go." Darcy said, all but shoving Bucky forward.

"Ladies' first-"

"I'm not asking, Sergeant."

"And I'm not goin'-"

"Bucky, get your ass over there before the thing falls down!" she snapped. She may or may not have stomped her foot, but she'd later debate the fact. "Not asking!"

It took him precious long seconds to look at Steve, then her, and shut his eyes.

"You're right behind me." he told her, roughly, climbing up onto the beam.

"Right behind you." she promised. "Hurry up."

He inched across it as fast as he could, his shoulders tense and spine curved down, hands out and actively grabbing at nothing. He crossed in good time, managing to skip the last bit as it bent in the middle and broke, groaning loudly as the metal clanked and clanged on the long way down into flames.

"Well, shit." Darcy said, and slicked her hair back with her own sweat, tucking her helmet under one hand. She stared at the flames, at Bucky across, looking pale and mortified and like he was going to cry. "Now what?"

Steve looked around, eyed the gap, then her waist.

"Trust me?" he said mildly.

"'Course." she studied his frown. "Why?"

"Bucky," he called, and waved him aside. "Move outta the way."

"Steve?" she said, and held onto his arm. "What're you thinking?"

"That I need to get my girl across that divide." he said evenly, and touched her face. "I love you."

"You're comin' too." she said, vehemently. "You're not staying here."

"Let me worry about that," he said, and dropped into a crouch. "Step up onto my hand."

"What?" she dead panned.

"Like the showgirls. Step onto my hand." he braced her leg with his other, steering her forward, then kind of effortlessly lifted into standing, with the balls of her boots tucked into his palm. "I'm gonna throw you."

"Brilliant." she said flatly, and looked across. That was a  _lot_  of space. "Okay."

"Ready?"

She swallowed, looked down at him.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

She wet her lips.

"I'm regretting not having sex with you."

He nearly dropped her, one hand coming up to cup around her thigh as she wobbled over the fire and grabbed his head to anchor it to her hip.

" _Darcy._  Really?" he was staring at her, mouth opened. "Right now? That's where your brain is?"

"Look, I'm just saying." she glanced across the divide, where Bucky was waiting without blinking, struggling to hold himself upright. "We can rectify it later. If either one of us dies before we sleep together I'm gonna be pissed off. Do not die."

"Always the vote of positivity." he murmured, letting her crouch so she could kiss his mouth, hands bracketing the sides of his face. She kissed his nose and both his cheeks.

"Love you."

"Love you too." he said. "I'll be there in a second."

"Waitin' on you again, Steve." she teased, patting his cheek.

He smiled, tensed his arm, making her stand for balance.

"Ready?"

"Go for it." she said, and looked determinedly forward.

He launched her and she soared, turning mid-air to land boots first on the metal platform, Bucky's hand snagging the front of her shirt as she teetered precariously backwards. She grabbed his arm and he yanked her forward, toppling together as something exploded and the flames  _roared_  behind them.

"Steve!" she said, holding onto Bucky's arm, staring back through the leaping fire.

"You alright?" she could barely see him through the heat waves, distorting his entire visage like a nightmare.

"Fine! What-...What're you gonna do?"

"There's gotta be a rope, somethin'!" Bucky shouted, holding onto her tightly. She happened to think it was equal parts because he was having difficulty standing, and fear. It felt good to know that at least someone was sensible enough to be scared.

"Just go," Steve's voice barely carried to Darcy over the flames. "Get outta here!"

"NO!" they shouted together.

"Not without you!" Bucky barked back, slamming his hand on the railing. Darcy hugged his waist, his arm tense around her shoulders, letting him lean on her.

"Come on," she said, sounding determinedly firm. If Bucky weren't there, she would've been falling apart, Juliet to her dying Romeo without any brains in her head. But since he was, keeping her upright and sane, she swallowed back her fear, stomped away her tears. Later, she'd admit, there was definitely foot stomping there. "I'm waitin' on you!"

They saw him run back, consider the edge.

Bucky swore.

"Is he gonna...?"

"Yup."

"Do you think he'll make it!?"

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

Bucky turned her face to his chest and wrapped both arms around her.

She could  _hear_  it, now, above the hissing and crashing and general armageddon around her, hear Steve backing up and taking his running leap. She couldn't not watch - she had to know, had to see him land. What she did she was flames bursting behind him like he'd just come from the gates of Hell - but she saw him land, easy, she him roll and pop into standing, receiving the hug from both friends with one per arm.

"Alright." he said, nodding. "Let's go home."

* * *

They were out. And everything should've been fine. She'd been reunited with her father, had Bucky back - and although thinner and sickly grey at the edges, he was fine...

She was struck dumb for a second at the jolts to her person, then returned fire in the general area, ignoring Steve's shouting and the crack of guns around her.

She couldn't feel in the sense that there was pain, but it was wet, and hot, and she'd fallen back onto the floor and could feel the cold bite of the liquid in the vials pouring into her wounds.

"Moxie!"

Her father's big head was blurred, she was in such a state of shock. But she blinked rapidly and cleared her vision and propped up on her elbows, wincing.

"I'm fine." she said, and sat fully, despite the sharp pain in her ribs and the sensation of ice winding in her guts. She stood with his help, looked at the gun still tucked into her shoulder. "Knocked me fair on my arse, you know that? Recoil like a goddamn donkey kick. We didn't have these on the farm, that's for damn sure."

Bucky chuckled, while Steve's pitched brows smoothed, and he marched across the foliage to drag her face up to his so he could plant one on her, dip her in a kiss that made the breath steal from her body. She was glad he was bigger, because without the arm around her waist she would've dropped to the floor.

Something twinged, his suit hitting her wound, and she gasped into his mouth. He let her go, just for a second.

"You okay?"

She just smiled, patted his face, before looking down. There was no blood. Maybe she was just being a big baby, having some kind of phantom panic. She had thought she'd been shot, but being shot entailed bleeding, didn't it? She looked at her fingers again, wet but with clear liquid.

Wait, that wasn't right...

"Darcy?" Steve's voice was urgent in her ears. "Honey, are you alright?"

"Seen better days." she said lightly. "Not many. But a few. Kiss me again and it'll get better."

His grin was slow and naughty, and he nearly devoured her mouth.

"Get your hands," her father said lowly. "Off my little girl."

"Christ almighty, daddy." she scoffed, and shoved his arm. "Quit."

"There will be words-!" the big man promised.

"Not now there ain't. And don't think about liftin' no fist to my fella anyway. Not right now. Let's just get on home."

"Jesus." Bucky said, leaning towards Steve. "Thought I'd miss the accent, but you know what? I think I mighta been drugged."

"Whatchit, Barnes." William said darkly, and put Darcy under his arm, bellowing clear a path so they could wander through and she might briefly explain just what the hell she was doing in a war zone.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Painfully uploading on my phone. I couldn't not do it. Lmao!
> 
> Enjoy.   
> We are getting close to the end!!

She was ultimately happy.

That's what she knew, coming into camp.

She was happy that Steve had let her be her own, happy that she had been allowed the decisions that had been made in the heat of battle to survive. She was happy that her training had paid off, and that she could trust _him_ and _be_ trusted, and she was happy they were all home - her daddy included - a family unit, at last.

Her abject murderess' guilt wasn't being acknowledged, not yet. She had to focus on the now, on Steve, and Bucky...

Put one foot in front of the other.

Which is about the time she hit the floor with her knees, hands dropping her gun to attempt to steady herself. She coughed, retched, then fell onto her side, shaking.

"Jesus, no-" Bucky breathed, on his knees beside her. He wasn't blinking, just staring, blue eyes wide on her convulsions. "Darcy, what did you _do_?"

The only reason she didn't answer was because she forgot the question.

Steve was bending to scoop her up. Dully, was was aware one clawed hand reached for him, clamped on his shoulder... The same hand she had pressed to her stomach, wet with diluted blood that ran down her arm in streaks.

She blinked and he was gone, Howard's face was ringed in a halo of bright hospital lights. He looked frightened, looked totally out of his depth. She saw him panic, which she was sure, he had never done before... And then he took her hand, desperately aiming her face at his.

"C'mon, Lewis," he murmured, somehow above the roaring in her ears. "Thatta girl. Stay with me-"

 Then he was gone, and Bucky's head was on her forearm, cutting the circulation to her fingers.

She felt like a bag of _shit_.

She lifted her free hand, put it on top of his scruff, and rubbed the pads of her fingers into his scalp. He woke slowly, cracking one eye open at her.

"Hey." he said roughly.

"You look like I feel." she muttered, and his grin broke wide and bright. "How long've I been out?"

"Coupla days. Coulda been worse. Coulda been better." he paused, sniper eyes sharp on her face. "Howard says that whatever you were keeping in your pocket is in your system. You took it from them, didn't you? Whatever they put in me. You took it."

"I wanted him to make sure you were gonna be okay." she shut her eyes. "Don't look at me like I killed your dog, best interests were at heart."

"Now you're infected." he said lowly. "With whatever I got."

"Good." she let her hand slide over his head, fall onto his arm. "Guess we're in this together."

He picked up her hand, squeezed her fingers gently.

"Steve's pretty cut up." he told her. "That you let yourself get shot twice and he didn't know about it until we were home."

"I don't think I knew I was actually hurt until we were almost home. 'Sides. He had other things to worry about. I'll be fine."

"He won't. Swearin' black and blue you'll never go out into the field again."

She scoffed.

"After everything I did."

"You got shot, doll." he said, and squeezed her fingers. "That's nothin' to screw your nose up at, okay? It was pretty bad. Woulda been worse if..."

"If?"

He looked all sorts of uncomfortable and queasy. She squeezed his had.

"Whatever it is you had in your belt? Made the blood thick up, stopped most of the bleeding." he appeared to be chewing the inside of his cheek. "Made you heal up after you got hurt. You ain't even got bruises left, just a little scarin' now."

She let that register in her brain.

"So, I got shot two days ago, is what you're tellin' me."

"Yup."

"And now I've only got scars."

"Yup." he sat back in his chair, watched her sit up, touching her stomach. "Hurt any?"

"Tender." she muttered. "Real tender. But I-... I reckon I could probably go." she ripped the needle out of her hand with a wince and pushed the covers off her legs.

"They said you should stay still as possible." he warned.

"Get me outta here and I will."

"Oi." the curtain was yanked back, and her father stood there with Steve at his side, the both of them looking like they were going to verbally tear her apart. "You. Sit."

"Daddy, I'm fine, look-" she pulled up the shirt. "I ain't even bruised-"

Her father's hand struck out to block Steve's eyes. He glared at Bucky.

"Look away." he seethed, but Bucky already turned in his whole chair to do so. "Mox, put your legs back in that bed, and put yer goddamn shirt down."

"Daddy-"

"Do it."

"Goddammit." she said, kicking her feet up onto the mattress, which made her stomach twinge. "Sonuva-"

"Language." he said, and let his hand drop from Steve's eyes. "You been in the army too long, my girl."

"Please." she scoffed, folding her arms over her stomach. "I picked it up from you."

"Bull _shit_." he snapped, and lumbered over to her bedside, taking a seat that threatened to break under his massive weight. "You never."

"Did too." she muttered, and wiggled back into the pillows sulkily.

There was a long moment of silence, when Steve put his massive shoulders to the wall directly opposite her bed and didn't say a word.

"So," she said lightly, raising a brow at Steve. "You're not talking to me."

"You're the one who chose not to say anything when you were _shot_."

Oh, this was gonna be fun.

"Oh, stop. We had other things to worry about."

"You were shot twice."

"Well, I'm still here, ain't I?"

His teeth ground.

"My first priority is always you, Darcy."

She flushed under the use of her name in front of her father. It made her feel chastised more thoroughly, somehow. Not to mention, she'd been making people call her 'Moxie' since she was about knee-high to a grasshopper.

"There was men who needed you more'n I did, so what if I waited to say-"

"You collapsed. You still didn't say anything."

"I didn't get the chance to, as I had collapsed. And I -... I don't think I knew. I didn't feel it - what ever was in the vials made it numb."

He was very calm. It was terrifying.

"I don't believe that."

"Believe what you want, that's what I'm tellin' you." she held up a hand as he opened his mouth to retort. "I don't want to fight."

"We're not fighting." he ran his hand over his head. "Jesus Christ, honey. You coulda died. If you had've - I never, ever would've forgiven myself."

"Y'got that right." her father mumbled.

"I'm sorry." she put her hand out for him to take. He did, cupping thick and warm fingers around her knuckles like she was fragile. "Please don't be like that. I won't - not tell you, if I get shot again."

"You're not gonna get shot again." he turned his chin up, physically readying himself for the oncoming battle. "You're not coming into the field again."

"You're joking." she tried to turn his face down by his chin, but he was set in stone, jaw clenched against her tugging. "You're _joking_! You can't do that!"

"Yes I can. I'm the Captain." but he didn't sound so sure. She was speechless, for all of three seconds.

"If you don't let me go out with you, I'll do it my damn self."

"Like hell you will."

"Won't I?" she fixed the side of his head with a hard stare, crossed both arms over her chest. "You wanna put money down on that?"

"I do. Because you're not going."

"Listen, I've got just as much training as you -"

"I've said _no_." he said, loudly, cutting her protest short. "That's... that's the end of it. We're not having this discussion."

She couldn't believe the _nerve_ of him. Couldn't believe how cold he was. On some level, she recognized that she had been wrong - got shot, shut her mouth - but now he was just being an over protective ass.

"Get out." she said, and pointed to the door. "You gonna try'n ground me, I don't want to see your face. Get."

His entire expression softened, whole body going lax against the wall, the folded arms loosening to swing at his sides.

"Darcy..." he said, and maybe they could've worked something out - but never got a chance to finish.

"Y'got problems hearin', boy?" William gruffed. "Got your orders. Move or I'll move you."

There was a moment when they just looked at each other, before she turned her face away from him, shaking her head.

"After everything." she muttered. "Still ain't good enough."

"That's not-"

William stood, the chair creaking loudly, and folded thick arms across a meaty chest.

"Alright, alright." Bucky said, lifting his hands. "Easy, Will. We're goin'. See ya 'round, babydoll." he swooped to press a kiss on Darcy's forehead, making her reach up and scrub at it with all due petulance.

He chuckled, went to Steve, and steered him out of the room. Her daddy stayed standing for a long minute after they had left, waiting for the return.

When there was nothing, he looked at her, brows pitched.

"That's a nasty way t' treat a fella who loves you."

"No, what's nasty is groundin' me like I can't do nothin'." she said, and reached up to rub her temples. "I ain't an invalid."

"No, you ain't." William retook his seat, leaning big elbows on her bed. His weight was so heavy she slid several inches to his side. "Don't know what you think you're doin', but you ain't useless. Ain't never been. I know it ain't a lady's place, in war, but you ain't a lady. You're my little girl and I hate that you're here 'n' shot, but... fuck if I ain't proud o' you, Moxie."

"Thanks, daddy." she smiled at him, then looked out the window. "So, what you think o' Bucky?"

"That little shit?" he became gruff, quite abruptly. "Hell. He's a mouthy bastard, ain't he?"

"Oh, you think that's bad?" she snorted. "You should see him in action. He's a dirty flirt."

"Ever try anything with you?"

"Always." she said and rolled her eyes. "But he's a good friend, daddy. Went in for him as much as in for you."

"Hmph." he said, and sat back in his chair. "How'd you meet him?"

"Uh." she said, and looked at the roof. "It's a long story."

"Spill it, kid. Or I'll ring it out of Barnes, kickin' and screamin'."

"I might enjoy that." she told the roof, then glanced at him.

"Long story, huh?" and with that tone of voice? She knew, just _knew_ , that she was going to tell him weather she liked it or not. She might just get a pass now because she got shot.

"Daddy, m'in hospital, gimme a break."

"You're not goin' anywhere."

She coughed pathetically.

"I got shot, pity me."

"Try again."

There was a minor hesitation, she could sense his weakness. Like a predator circling her prey, she honed in on the slight give in his resolve and attacked.

She made her eyes go big and watery.

" _Pity me_." she said again, and he rolled his eyes, sitting on the chair next to her bed, making it creak from his weight.


	19. Chapter 19

Her healing process was done by that evening, but she wasn't allowed to be released until two days later.

The doctors kept wanting to take blood, but between her and her father, they never got the chance. Bucky came in twice each day to get his own taken, but neither Howard nor Steve made an appearance.

Peggy came in, with a handful of sunny flowers and a small teddy bear, looking gorgeous and put together enough to make her father try and straighten out his beard and hair.

"Hello, Moxie." she said. "Heya, Peggy. Peggy, this's my daddy, William. Daddy, this is Peggy. She's in the SSR - we shared the tent at boot camp."

He was still fixing his beard when he stuck out a hand to her.

"Pleasure's mine, ma'am." he said, and Peggy lifted a brow, the corners of her mouth curling slightly.

She shook his hand firmly, put the flowers in a vase, and forcibally tucked the teddy in the blanket, while Darcy sat cross legged in the middle of the bed, a handful of cards in a precariously balanced house.

"What's news?" she prompted.

Peggy's smile went away.

"Steve has spoken to General Phillips." she said. "You're off combat."

Darcy wasn't at all surprised, but she was still angry.

"Well, you know how it is, Pegs. When a woman gets too big for her boots, a man's gotta keep her in line." she spat back. When she tried to place the next card, her hand was shaking so violently that she only touched it to the others before it all came down. "God-fucking-!"

"Language!" William barked at her.

"No, fuck it. This's stupid. I ain't even hurt any more! He hasn't even tried t' see me, he hasn't said a word to me in nearly two days, but he sees fit to govern what I can and can't do because I got shot in the middle of a goddamn war zone? What kind of backwards _bullshit_ -?"

"I came to tell you," she said patiently, cutting the raging tirade short. "That Sergeant Barnes has since had a few words with him. They're not fighting about it, but only because Steve isn't fighting. He's plotting maps and recalling data he saw in the facility."

"Bucky's tryna talk sense to him?" she said, frowning slightly.

"'Talk' is quite a... gentle word, for what _he's_ been doing." Peggy considered, then reached out and patted her hand. " _I've_ been talking. There's only so much I can do, but I wanted to know for sure, that to fight is what you wanted."

"It is." Darcy promised her.

"Then I'll keeping talking." she said, amused, and took her hand to smooth over her skirt. "Between Sergeant Barnes and I, we should be able to keep you. General Phillips seems to have taken a liking to him."

"That schmoozy bastard." Darcy said, and scoffed. "If any one could, it'd be Bucky."

"He does have... a particular way, with charming people." Peggy said, and there was a twinkle in her eye, a peculiar smile on her mouth.

"Peggy..." she said, tilting her head. "You sweet on Bucky?"

"No." she said, a touch too quickly.

Darcy grinned.

"Oh, trust me. If any one could, it'd be Bucky. Don't pay him any kind of attention that ain't about war 'n' combat. It'll drive him wild."

Peggy's smile just increased.

"I'm not sweet on the Sergeant." she said again, but it was a filthy lie and both women knew it.

"Good." William said. "You're too put together for the likes of that mouthy sonuva-...Woman."

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head at him. "I only really just dropped by to see you and make sure I was fighting for the right cause. But to be honest, I think he's wearing down." she chewed her ruby lip, then smiled again.

"Thanks, Peggy." she said, still angry and disappointed, but overall grateful for the intervention. She'd lay off hitting Bucky for as long as he didn't say anything too off-color. "It's 'ppriciated."

"Of course." she bid them both a quiet goodbye, and William watched her go with his tongue barely lolling.

"Daddy, you're married."

"Yeah, but... shit. That's a hell of a woman."

"No kiddin'." she said, amused, and picked up the bear, giving it a quick hug. It helped more than she thought it would with the festering anger she held over the whole situation, and she hugged it a fraction tighter.

"You think she'd take an old man out dancing?" still looking out the door, William didn't see the bear until it was lobbed at his head, bouncing off his wiry salt-and-pepper hair. "Oi!"

"You're married." she said again, slowly, and loudly. "To my mother."

"Yeah, but... S'just a little fun. I ain't been dancin' since 'fore the war, anyhow." he bent to pick up the bear, put it back on the bed with the playfully scowling girl. "You been dancin' with your fella?"

"Naw." she said, and scooped up the bear, unashamedly hugging it to her chest. "It's weird now he's so big. I wouldn't take him dancin' before, cuz he was little and too much movin' made it hard for him to breathe... and now, sometimes, daddy, I feel like I'm muckin' about on him. If I close my eyes, I don't even know who's hand I've got in mine."

"Hmph." William said, and started sorting through the pile of cards on her bed. "Hand holdin' better be all you close your eyes for."

She decided not to talk to her daddy about Steve anymore.

* * *

 

Upon the doctors being threatened with bodily harm if they didn't let her out of the stifling room, she went directly with her father to the place where all the war stuff was planned.

But while William was allowed entrance, she was not. She saw the top of Steve's golden head and threw her hands up, spinning on her heel and leaving with the energy of a thunderstorm.

Aimlessly wondering, full of angry, she wounded up in front of Howard's door, punching it so hard the wood around the handle cracked.

"Whoops." she said, as the door swung open. "Howie, let a girl in. Needa drink."

For a long second, he just looked her over.

"...I'm not going to help you."

"What?!"

"He's told you he's not taking you into war," he said evenly. "And I'm not going to help you."

"I don't want your help with _that_."

"Well, what do you want?"

She felt the tick under her left eye.

"Company."

"That, I can provide. He, uh -" he stuck his head out, looked around. "Know you're here?"

"Tactical genius. That, and, I don't have anywhere else I can go."

"You could go find Barnes." he said, then back peddled at the look on her face. "Not that I don't want you here, he's already got it out for me and if you two are in a tiff then he's gonna think the worst-"

"No, you're right. You're right." she nodded, and felt her face flush red hot. "I can't be trusted."

"That's not what I-"

"What would I know, I just get shot at and I'll sleep with the next man I see! _Clearly_ , I'm not to be trusted. Why should he? Huh? Why should he trust me? It's not like I've given everything up for him. It's not like I turned down the opportunity of a lifetime to work with the world's most innovative genius to stay with him. It's certainly not because I followed him into a goddamn war, loved him even when he was little, even when he was sick, LET HIM TAKE THE SERUM EVEN THOUGH _I GOT CHOSE FOR IT FIRST!_ " she caught her breath, because the bitter tirade pouring out of her so so cold, even to her own ears. She put a hand up to her mouth, and burst into tears.

"Aw, hell." Howard said, and stepped forward. "Geeze - aw, Moxie-"

She sniffed, wiping under her eyes.

"It's been a goddamn long day," she said, in weak defense. "I just... I don't have anyone else, Howie. Buck's gonna be by his side, 'n' my daddy will kill 'im if he lets it go, 'n' Peggy's gone on some other base 'n' James Hammer 'n' Teddy Tonks 'n' Mortacai won't talk to me no more..." her lips were shaking, eyes filling.

"Goddamn long day, Howie."

"Aw, hell." he said, and suddenly his arms were around her, tucking her face under his chin. She had slapped both hands to her face to physically hold back the tears so she was all wrapped up in Howard, smelling his beautiful cologne and vaguely oily smell. It was comforting, that lustrous perfume and workshop scent. Like home away from home.

"There, there. Please don't cry. You wanna drink? Whiskey?"

"I wanna drown in it." she sniffed, and lifted her eyes to his face. "But if you don't want me, I'm not gonna stay."

"What's he gonna do? Throw me around? Black my eyes?" he waved his hand airily. "It's fine. Come on in. You're worth it."

"I don't feel worth much." she sulked, leaning against his arm. "I feel broken and old."

"Considering you were shot four days ago, I don't doubt it." he said. "And like you're all of twenty two."

She didn't answer, just wiping her face roughly on her sleeve. Ducking out from under his hold, she sat on the sofa with a twinge, holding her belly as she sat. She sniffed, wiping under her eyes, and accepted the drink from him with a grateful, albeit sad sounding thank you.

"Aw." he said, and sat next to her, patting her shoulder. "Babydoll. You look like a little lost kitten."

"I ain't lost." she sniffed. "Just-...Sad."

"You spoke to Steve, yet?"

"No." she sniffed louder, wiped her forearm over her face. "He didn't even come to see me in the infirmary."

"Thought he said you said for him to get out?"

"Yeah, I did..." she looked at him. "But he didn't even try and come back."

"Hmm." he sipped his drink. "Well, honest, sounded to me like he thought you didn't want to see him until he let you back into the war."

"Good, cuz that's how I meant it." she said, blinking. "I thought he'd give by now."

"I think he almost did." he offered, then shifted, and drank what was left in his glass.

"What? When? Why didn't he?" she sat forward, but he stood and got the bottle, refilling it with more amber liquid than strictly necessary. "Howie?"

"It pulls a fella's heartstrings when you call his name like that, Lewis." he said, sighing heavily. "You don't wanna hear it, dollface, trust me-"

"Howie?" she said again, and delighted when he deflated. "Tell me what happened to make him change his mind?"

"Your father." he said, and winced.

She felt the blood rush out of her skull.

"My father what?"

"Well... Jesus, c'mon. You don't need this, on top of all your dramas, dear. Don't - not with the _face_."

Her eyes were wide and watery, bottom lip stuck out. She had no idea why she'd never indulged in the little-girl pouting before, because it was super effective.

"Howie." she said, and batted her lashes. "Howie, please?"

"Oh for the love of -" he put a hand over her face. "Alright, alright! Look, when your daddy was coming out of your room, Steve was going in. 'Bout the day after you guys... fought."

"Right." She pulled his hand away from her face, and he curled his fingers around her palm to hold it, thumb tapping almost nervously. "Continue."

"I was going to go in at about the same time, but your father doesn't like me much, so I, uh, hid behind the wall, like a man." he shifted, took a long pull of his drink. Darcy leaned her elbows to knees, listening intently, watching Howard wrap both hands around his glass and stare into it. "I over heard them talk, see. Said their 'hello, how are yous' and then Steve said he was going to apologize and make things right - that he shouldn't try and ground you, you'd worked hard, you hadn't actually known you were shot."

She held up a hand, drank everything in her glass, then waved him on.

"And...the exact thing your father said was: "No you ain't, you just keep it up and I won't have no words or no fists for you." He said that Steve was doing the right thing, by putting you on the ground. So Steve wasn't really intimidated by the uh, threats, but as soon as your father mentioned it was right to keep you safe..."

"I think," she said, very calmly. "I'm going to punch someone. In the throat."

"Is it me?" he said. "Because this is my favorite tie-"

"It's heinous." she said flatly, then flexed her hand for the bottle. "Gimme."

He sighed, filled his glass a little more, and handed her the bottle by the neck. She didn't bother with the glass, sitting back and necking it for several long pulls, before she sniffed and put it between her legs, grumpily considering the sloshing liquid.

"Sorry." he said, and sat next to her.

She just shook her head, leaned her temple to his shoulder.

"Don't be, you ain't done anything wrong. I'm - just -... I'm so angry, Howie." she muttered. "And I got shot a few days ago, but this? Hurts more. I'm glad I got you."

"Yeah." he said, and put his arm around her slowly, tensing up when she settled more easily against his side. "Yeah, I'm glad you got me too."


	20. Chapter 20

Knocking, she decided, was for rookies.

She jogged down the stairs and made a face at the two officers that looked like they were going to bar her out, then shoved past anyway.

"What, you think a couple jack-booted thugs are gonna keep me out?" she glared, and had opened her mouth with a few choice words when she was addressed by General Phillips.

"Can I help you, Lewis?"

Steve had assembled a team of men to fit his needs - Dum Dum, Gabriel, Jonesy, and a few others she didn't know - but the two who she expected more out of were Bucky and her father.

Bucky might've been the only one to even look momentarily sheepish, standing at Steve's right side, head kinda down. William on his left, however, did not, staring directly at her. Phillips cleared his throat, waved off the sub-par guards trying to wrestle her out of the room.

"These are delicate proceedings," the General went on. "And we do not have time to dally."

"Oh no, by all means." she said, glaring between her father and her sweetheart. "Go on."

"Well if you could just leave the room." he said, arching both brows. "We will."

"Sir, all due respect, sir-"

"Now how come every time you start a sentence like that, somethin' comes outta your mouth I don't find at all respectful?" he tilted his head at her. "Captain Rogers was very set. You're not going."

"Sir-"

"You're not going." he said again, and watched her eye twitch. "Is that a problem, Lewis?"

It was. It was such a problem.

"Sir," she said again, and waited until he waved her on. "Again, with all due respect, Rogers is compromised, his judgement's bad on this one. I'm good for this team."

The men who hadn't trained with her nothing short of scoffed. Her father shot them glares - Bucky just smirked his I-know-something-you-don't smirk, but Steve just folded his arms across his chest.

"Compromised, Lewis?" he said, every inch Captain America sure.

Considering it was the first thing he'd said to her in over a week, she decided that if he was going to be mean, she'd be meaner.

"I thought you didn't have no problems hearing anymore, _Rogers_?"

Mean, mean, mean.

He lifted his chin.

Phillips lifted a hand to cut her off.

"You aren't going, Mox. That's the final consensus. Do not struggle with it." She was honestly more shocked he used her nickname than anything. "I've had enough of your sulk."

"You wouldn't have to deal with my 'sulk' 'f ya hadda sent me off with them." she waved vaguely at the men around the table. "Sir."

"No, then I would've had to deal with _his_." he pointed to Steve, pitching forward in his chair to stab a finger in his general direction. "Now, get out, please and thankyou."

She huffed.

Howard took her elbow, slid his arm through the gap.

"C'mon, babydoll," he said, in a very sleazy drawl. "Let's go do somethin' _fun_ while your daddy and your fella are out shooting at bad guys, what say you?"

Steve's brow came down and she was almost sure there was a hot beam of light from his eyes trying to set her spine on fire.

She instigated her new found power of hip swinging and eye fluttering and aimed both up at Howard, knowing all eyes were on them.

Peggy's red mouth caught her eye, twisted into a half unamused, half impressed smile. She tilted her chest, aimed it up and out.

"I say that's just a swell idea, Howie, honey."

She was a bitch and she was probably gonna go to Hell.

* * *

 

One Month Later

* * *

 

She had a cigarette hanging from her bottom lip and the guts of an engine between her knees when Steve came out from his debrief.

Bucky sat heavily across from her, beer bottle in hand, legs splayed and elbows cocked on the back of the chair.

"Didn' know you smoked."

"Don't." she puffed around it, only lifting her eyes for a second to see that he wasn't in bandages. "Have fun?"

"Tonnes. Got shot at. Killed someone's sons. The usual."

"Coulda been worse." she said, and put her eyes back down. "You coulda been born a girl and have to sit at home useless."

"You're not useless." Steve said, sitting down on the available chair beside her.

After him, the rest of the men followed, all between them drinks and a deck of cards tucked under someone's pit. They gave her long once overs, looking at the engine, but only Dum Dum came over to clap her on the shoulder and say hello.

"The hell'd you know 'bout it?" she said, and pulled out the cigarette, blowing it out away from him. A part of her brain was still concerned for his asthma, and it made her angry.

Angry-r.

"I think I know a thing or two about bein' useless, thank you." he said dryly.

"Not like this, you don't." she scoffed, and twisted a bolt hand enough that the handle bit into her palm and she could feel it bruising from repetitive use - but it'd be gone by tomorrow, so what did she care?

"Don't I?" he sat back in his chair, spread his arms. "Well, you know best."

She glared at him from under her lashes, and lifted an oily claw to tuck her hair behind her ears, before lifting her fingers to pinch the cigarette between.

"No, I don't know nuthin'." she said flatly, getting to her feet so hard the chair scraped across the floor. "I'm just a stupid little girl."

"Mox." he said, and stood, but she was already storming to the door. "Moxie. _Darcy_." he took her by the elbow, hand clamping gently, like she might break.

It made her temper spike even higher. She wrenched her arm away, turned to glare up at him, jaw set, a curl of smoke issuing through her nose.

"Wassamatter with you?" he notched his voice down an octave, stared into her eyes without blinking. He had made himself smaller to catch her gaze, appear less intimidating.

"'S'matter with me?" she threw up her hands. "Are you kiddin'?"

"You usually look at least half way happy when I come home." he said, and folded his arms. "Unless this time you were hopin' I got hurt."

"No." she was frankly, very appalled he thought so badly of her. "But goddammit if I ain't got halfa mind t' smack you on your ass for sayin' that to me."

"Go ahead." he said, and waited. "Go on. I'm not playin'. Hit me, if it's gonna make ya feel better."

"What'd make me feel better-" she said, around the smoke in her mouth. "-S'if you got off yer high horse and let me fight with you."

"It's war, Darcy. It ain't a back alley, anymore, baby." he softened. "I can't let you get hurt."

"Well, yer doin' a fuckin' bang-up job, Rogers." she turned on her heel and slammed the door on her way out.

Never mind the Commandos had heard everything, never mind that her father was now staring at the cigarette between her lips as she stormed past.

She was pissed off.

"Want me to beat him up, sweetheart?"

"No, Daddy."

"What about Barnes? Can I hit him?"

"Yeah, sure." she stomped on the cigarette and went on to her bunk.

She was almost entirely sure that she could hear Bucky's winging about his dead arm all the way under her covers.

* * *

 

That night, she had the most bizarre dream.

She dreamed that Steve Rogers was some kind of film star - his Captain America was the story.

It told about his rough and tumble childhood, all his sickness, his best friendship with Bucky, meeting Dr. Erskine and Howard Stark, the whole kit and kaboodle.

He got closer and closer to Peggy, still awkward and fumbly with ladies.

He was a hero by himself, and the Commandos were all famous and skilled.

Then the war ended and he wrote books, made his life story into a picture with real footage and pictures from the war. He and Peggy got married, had babies, grew more and more famous and rich until he and Howard banded together and recreated the serum.

And she watched it all in the film version, but was never there at all, a figment of her own imagination.

She woke up and was so- upset - she hugged the bear that Peggy had given her and in her nightgown, picked Howard's lock and went to sleep on his couch.

* * *

 

In the morning, there was a blanket around her, and a pot of coffee next to some little flowers, a big shiny apple, and luke warm crepes.

Howard was at his desk, feet up, some papers in his hands and eyes staring at the words. But he was only moving to breathe, not to read, or to think, nothing going on behind his overly intelligent eyes.

"G'mornin'." she mumbled, keeping the blanket hoisted high around her neck as she sat. She tested the temperature of the coffee with the back of her hand, then drank out of the pot.

"Good morning." he said, a small smile on his mouth. "How are you?"

She shrugged a shoulder, one arm clamped around the bear.

"Alright, I guess."

"You know," he said in a slow, even drawl. "I got a perfectly good bed in the back room."

"Yeah, 'cept you were in it when I got here." there was a pause. "I was only gonna stay a couple hours, just, calm down a little bit. I didn't wanna be alone, but I, uh, didn't mean to fall asleep. Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm glad you stayed." he put the papers on his desk, reclined onto the back legs of the chair. "I don't want you to have another incident concerning your intakes, Lewis."

"Incident." she scoffed, drank some more coffee. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" both eyebrows hiked on his forehead. "You, wondering around in your nightdress in the middle of an army barracks at some godawful time of night, you call that fine?"

She sighed, put down the coffee pot, rubbed her eyes.

"Shoulda left." she muttered.

"No." he said. "I...I need to talk to you."

"If you're gonna lecture me about good machines and fuel -"

"I'm not gonna lecture you. I'm gonna tell you." he swallowed. "Think you should break off from Steve."

She blinked at him.

"Okay." she said slowly. "What the hell for?"

"You're supposed to be in a relationship with him. You don't talk, you don't touch, you don't look at the fella. You spend more time drinkin' with me than you do thinkin' about him-"

"Steve is always on my mind, Howard." she said firmly. "I love him."

He recoiled, then swung down, flipping his shiny shoes on the floor. With a calculated grace, he strolled around the desk, shoved over the coffee pot and handed her the apple, taking a seat on the table in front of her. She took a big bite, wiping the juice on the back of her hand, watching him link his fingers.

"Darcy." he said quietly. "I know you love him. I know that. But I also know you're unhappy."

"We're in the middle of a war, what right have I got to be happy?"

"How about... every one? Every single right to happiness. You should be as happy as you can. And this - spat, you two are having? It isn't fair. I've been talking to Steve, and he's more and more sure that the longer it goes on, the more you hate him. Do you?"

"Do I hate Steve?" she rolled her eyes. "I did just tell you I loved him."

"How about if you love him-... In a best friend, kinda way? Like he loves Barnes." he stared at her. "How about if it ain't the kinda love you think it is?"

She blinked at him, chewed and swallowed her apple bit.

"Howie, did you get enough sleep last night?"

He chuckled.

"I got plenty, sweetheart."

"So you're drunk, to ask me somethin' like that?" she took another bite of the apple, and around it, said: "I mean, you're a smart fella, but you ask some dumb questions."

His smile didn't falter, but the warmth in his face did.

"I just needed to make sure," he said. "That you knew what you were doing. Relationships are about working things out - about being together. You two aren't separated by the war, like everyone else is, but you're still not... co-existing. If he never lets this thing about letting you fight, go, will you?"

She swallowed.

"Don't think I will." she muttered. "But that isn't to say I won't still love him."

"Really?" he raised one brow at her. "Comin' to me because you're alone, because he ain't letting you do what you trained for, what you damn near worked to the bone for, and you're going to over look it when the war is said and done?"

"I will." she said. "I'll have to."

"You shouldn't." he replied, with a kind of surprising intensity. "Baby, if you were my girl, and you trained like you did to fight in the war like you have, I woulda let you go. Would've counted every finger and toe when you came home, and sat on pins and needles every time you left, but I woulda let you. Because that's what love - real love - is like."

She swallowed, even if there was nothing in her mouth. He went on.

"Were you my girl, I'd make whatever your beautiful brain dreamed up. Hand you the world on a diamond platter. There wouldn't be a star in the sky I wouldn't give you, if you asked for it. If you wanted it. I'd do anything for you." his hand, dry but stained with machinery, reached out and settled over hers, squeezing gently. "I would see you happy if it was the last thing I did."

She squeezed his hand in return.

"That bein' said." he smiled, and the warmth was back. "You ain't my girl. But I still want you happy. So if you and I are ever gonna work out..." he nudged her knee with his own, chuckling.

She smiled in return, feeling strangely girly, a little weak kneed. Howard, she was sure, would make someone an excellent husband, one day.

"I do, you know." she squeezed his hand. "Love you, Howie."

"Yeah, baby, I love you too." he tilted his head at her, waiting for her to think, all the while holding her hand.

She considered the regularity of it - both hands marked with oil and stains of metal - both with matching callouses and near same size.

She put her apple down on the table beside him and leaned forward, settling her cheek to his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her, legs bracketing hers.  

She didn't even mind the chin he tucked over her bare shoulder, or the gentle hands that smoothed over her back. The way his knuckles lingered, a little, on the curve of her waist, or the slight way he inclined his head so that his mouth was kind of resting against her skin. It felt warm, and safe, and cozy, in ways she haddn't felt since sharing the couch with Bucky, just before he went to war.

"I won't give, not on this." she muttered. "But I have to fix it. You're right. I'm miserable. I'm lonely. I feel - useless."

He hugged her just a fraction tighter. He must've frowned, because his mustache suddenly scrubbed over her shoulder.

"Tell me what you need me to do." he told the wall over her head. "And I'll do it. For you. You have my word."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD YOU IT WAS GONNA BE FINE.
> 
> Let's talk about how this was originally a 2.5 thousand word chapter... and is now over 5k. Comments get the gears going, I'm just sayin. ;)
> 
> GETTIN' CLOSE NOW!!!

"Buck," Steve said, into the darkness, staring at the roof. "You got somethin' to say, now's the time."

"You know not a lot keeps my mouth shut the best of times, Stevie." he was only in the next bunk over, but even then, his voice was low.

"Bucky." Steve said, patiently. "While everyone else's asleep, and Papa Lewis ain't gonna pull your tongue out your mouth. Now's the time."

There was a pause.

"You're doin' the wrong thing, keepin' Baby Lewis outta combat."

Steve sighed, heaving hugely enough to fill the entirety of his lungs. He sank, somewhat dully, into his rock hard mattress and shut his eyes.

"So I'm told."

"So what're you gonna do about it?"

Bucky propped up on his arm, straining to see his friend in the dark. Steve didn't bother - he could see Bucky just fine. There was enough light filtering in through the thin curtains that his scowl was just as pronounced as if he was lookin' at him in the light of day.

"Not a thing." he replied, and shut his eyes even tighter against the frown on Bucky's mouth.

"Why the hell not?" When Steve didn't answer, he went on. "You even like her, anymore?"

"Bucky, if you had a girl like Moxie, would ya let her fight?"

"That's different," Bucky scoffed quietly, rolling up onto his full side, one foot planting on the floor. He sat, scrubbing his hair with a frustrated claw, elbows on his knees. "A girl _like_  Moxie ain't Moxie enough. She'd do fine."

"Quick reminder she's already been shot twice. Now she's got some half assed serum in her blood and we don't know what's gonna come of that."

"Yeah, Steve, I got the serum too, pal." Bucky sounded, to all intents and purposes, rather bored. "That one ain't gonna fly with me, try again."

Steve likewise sat, hands clasped in a singular fist between his legs. Their bunks were so close that he bumped knees with the Sergeant, not having to bend much to put heads together so their conversation was quieter. It may have been the dead of night, but that wasn't to say no one was listening. God knew Morita slept on knife's edge as it was.

"You know I hear real far, now, don't cha?" he said firmly, darkly, under his breath. "Can hear through walls, behind doors, sometimes."

"Yeah. What of it?"

"I hear the men talking. What they say about her. What they say they'd like to do to her." he clenched his hands. "And they talk about deserting if a woman ever got into the Commandos, because if a bitch can do it, then why can't they?"

Bucky sneered.

"They ain't half the solider Moxie is." he said in a growl. "But men are always gonna talk, Steve - you don't think they say the same about Peggy? Don't think your girl's all alone in this. These men're starved for a bit of skin, they see pretty dames in uniforms and it duddn't get their upstairs brain goin', lemme tell you. But that's not a good enough excuse-"

"I don't want to lose her." he said simply. "I know she's been dealin' all her life with that kinda talk. But she shouldn't have to."

"So teach a couple bums a lesson when talk gets too loud -"

"It's not about that, Buck. I tell her, I tell you, no one  _gets it_. This ain't a back alley, this is war. Besides..." he swallowed, rubbed his face, and admitted to Bucky what he hardly wanted to admit to himself. "When - you'd never know, you'd never understand it - when a girl loves all your ugly and your scrawny and your sick - when she loves you even when you can't fistfight to save yourself, let alone her... When a dame like that loves you, and it's real, and it's solid-"

"Yeah, right, as romantic and pretty as that all is, it's still not good enough." Bucky waved him off. "You're sayin' she loved you, really you, cuz she had to look past everythin' to see it, right?"

"That's what I'm sayin'." the Captain agreed.

"Well, you're fulla shit, for starters. There wasn't anythin' wrong with you before. Shut up, listen to me." he pressed, as Steve started to remind him off how sick he could get, and how many times they'd waited for him to die through winter. "You're losin' it, buddy. You're losin' her, and you're losin' me."

Steve didn't say a word, just, stared. He never, never thought those words would come out of Bucky's mouth.

"All our lives," the Sergeant went on, his voice low, but angry. "I been pickin' you up, dustin' you off. All our lives, you been pickin' fights and gettin' your ass handed to you. All our lives, I told ya, time and time again, that I'd watch your back, follow you right to the end of the line. Now you got a girl willin' to fight a decent fight, but you're not lettin' her swing her fist...? How long would we've been friends if I hadda told ya to stop fightin', Steve?"

Steve didn't answer. It was more than answer enough.

"You know what? I heard her with Stark the other day. Went to go say my 'hello how are you's cuz I ain't seen the kid in so long, and she's off. I figure - it's early, but hell, she ain't got anywhere else to be, so I wonder on over to his place. You wanna know what I heard?"

"Do I got a choice?"

"He told her that she should break off with you." Bucky said. Steve's hands clamped tighter. "And here's me, droppin' my eaves, agreein' with the shmuck."

Steve, for a very long second, couldn't speak. He couldn't find his words, couldn't make his mouth move. Around him, the Commandos slept on, Papa Lewis snoring like thunder. He felt like his extremities were numb, like he was shell shocked into place. Ultimately, because he had nothing else to say, he opened his mouth and replied with:

"And you think I should let her?"

"Hell, Steve, what do I know?" he threw his hands up momentarily, then rubbed hard heels against his thighs, sighing shortly. "I ain't never had a woman love me like she loves you. Loved you. I don't know and I don't pretend to know what's goin' on in her head. What I know is, the little Steve I knew wouldda let her fight, cuz he knew full and well what it was like to be told he wasn't enough-"

"I would never,  _never_  tell Darcy she wasn't enough." he bit back, voice cracking like a whip. "Never."

"Well what the hell d'you think she's so mad for?" Bucky said through his teeth. "She done just as much trainin' as you. You let everyone else fight. Shit, halfa them you picked outta the camp with me, after we all got taken by the enemy. She was the one standin' beside you who come to get us out, for cryin' out-"

Someone snored, loudly, cutting the tirade short. They waited, but all they heard was the shift of blanket and creaky bed springs as Jones rolled over. There was a moment, then Steve looked at Bucky, expression flat.

"Let me tell you somethin' not in any papers, and maybe it'll help you understand. When we went into the HYDRA base, Buck, I let her run ahead without me. I trusted her to make her way into the base. She - let herself be taken - let her weapons get stripped. Even if it turned out well and good in the end, the kinda thing - it ain't  _safe_. She might be able to fight, sure, but she's a loose cannon. If I did let her into battle again, I'd have to keep one eye on her at all times."

"So keep an eye on her."

"And leave half a brain for the rest of you?" his brows went up. "I'm your Captain. I wouldn't do it for you, and I wouldn't accept that kind of behavior, either. I have to lead the team."

"The girl's got enough brains in her head to be safe." Bucky pressed. "C'mon, punk. You're holdin' back. You can sing all the excuses you want to everyone else, but I know you better. What's the truth?"

"You got the truth. I just told you." he said flatly. "I wouldn't take her onto this team even if she was a man, because-"

"Don't much appreciate you lyin' to me." Bucky retorted, folding his arms across his chest. "So I'm gonna wait for the truth, if you don't mind."

And Steve knew him just as well. Knew Bucky would literally wait until he gave and told him the truth. So he gave it over, hard and fast.

"Killin' those Nazis hurt her in ways I can't heal." Steve said, firmly, quietly. "I'm protectin' her in more ways than one. You and Stark can go on with your praises all you like, but like I said, and keep sayin'. This  _ain't a back alley_. This is war, and killin' men can rip a person's soul up. You want her to have nightmares like the rest of us? You want her to carry her guilt the same way you carry yours?"

Bucky actively recoiled like he'd been slapped.

"You think I don't know you well enough by now to see where your head goes when you get quiet? How tired and miserable you are when when come home?" he said, voice pitched low, just in case someone woke up to hear. There were just some things he didn't need anyone else to know he knew. "You think I can't see the rest of the goddamn platoon wearing down, Buck? Ya don't think I can't hear everything? How hard Gabriel breathes when he wakes up? Or Dum Dum, you don't think I can't hear him talkin' to his momma about the blood on his hands, and how to get it out of his uniform, come nighttime?"

Bucky swallowed.

"What else do you hear?" he mumbled.

"Enough." He heard Bucky talking to Becky, sometimes. Mostly he'd repeat his rank and name and number like when Steve found him on the table, and those seemed to be the worst nights. "Now. Do you wanna tell me again how I should just let Darcy into war because she's gonna handle it just fine?"

Bucky said nothing.

"Cuz you can take cover from bullets all you like, even heal from 'em with whatever is in your blood," Steve warned. "But the hurt I'm savin' her from ain't the kind you can dodge when you're takin' lives."

Feeling very much like he had put his heart on the line with the admittance, he laid out flat, disengaging from the conversation by pulling the covers over his chest and turning his back. Sure, he and Bucky had never quite seen eye-to-eye on absolutely everything, but they rarely, if ever, went to bed angry with each other - like an old married couple, they usually said their apologies before sleep.

Not this time, though. Bucky just sat there, blinking into the darkness, breathing drawn in and out painfully slow, deliberate, like he was taking aim at a difficult target.

"You should at least tell her..." he tried.

"So she can take it as me protectin' her sensitive feminine feelin's and have somethin' else to wanna hit me about?" he mumbled. "I'll take my chances with the Nazis. Go to sleep."

But for the rest of the night, they were both wide awake.

* * *

When she heard the Commandos were making a move, Darcy said nothing. She didn't even wish them good bye, just went straight to Howard and told him the skeleton of her bright idea. He sighed, loosened his tie, and handed her over the keys to a truck, along with a backseat of weapons and a communication device he slid into her ear for her.

She fought her way from the outside in, listening to Howard's advice in her ear as she went, finding the Commandos surrounded by the opposition in a big warehouse fulla their high tech machinery.

"That backup?" Dum Dum shouted, noting the guards being tossed out rightly over the third floor. "We call for back up?"

"Who needs back up," she shouted back down. "When you've got me?"

"Ay!" Bucky hollered up. "Watch where you drop the Nazis! You almost hit me down here!"

"Woulda knocked some sense into you!" she shouted back, and knocked the next one out, before looking over the edge. Her father was glaring up, barely hidden behind a big stack of crates, Steve standing behind him with an equal look of fury.

She aimed her handguns down, taking out the two advancing Nazis who were coming up on them.

She took a short bow.

"YOU'RE BOTH WELCOME."

* * *

"Babydoll!" Bucky said, slinging an arm over her shoulders. "How'd you get here?"

"Asked real pretty to borrow a truck. Can't drive for nuts, backed into a tree, stalled it half a dozen times on the way here..." she glanced around his chest to see Steve coming up with the energy of a thunderstorm. "Ah, shit. Hang on a sec, Buck."

"Gonna be longer than a sec." he warned her, and stopped Steve for a moment, putting his shoulders between them the same way Steve used his shield. "Go easy, punk."

Steve just stared until he stepped aside. Then he turned the full force of his very blue, very stern eyes down on her. She pretended that the Commandos didn't all go real quiet and start to listen. Her father hung on the outskirts of the gang, meaty arms folded tight across his chest internally warring on who's side he belonged on.

"Private."

"Oo-wee, I am in trouble if you aren't even gonna use my name."

"Moxie." he said, more firmly.

She pursed her lips.

"Yes, Captain?"

He appeared to be weighing his words very carefully.

"When I write up what happened just now, I'm going to mention how you directly disobeyed orders and attacked from above. I'm going to mention that I recommend very strongly against being a part of the Commandos. However-" he held up a gloved hand as she opened her mouth to protest. "-I'm also going to have to mention your initiative and the lives you helped protect, today. And I'm going to omit the part where you weren't actually supposed to be here. You can keep working, but you aren't doing it out here."

She stared at him for a long second, letting that filter through her brain.

"You know," she said, with a fluttering of her lashes. "If I'm stuck at base, I'm going to ask General Phillips to put me in a platoon somewhere."

"He won't do it." he said evenly.

"Why not?"

"Because I've already told him I'll cease fighting if he does."

She scowled.

"I'll go to Peggy and join the SSR."

"Peggy doesn't have that kind of power."

"Howard does." she said, and saw immediately, the flash of panic the lack of control would bring him. "I don't deal very well with being useless. Are you going to render me useless, Steve?"

He clenched his teeth, looked out, his jaw looking incredibly heroic.

"You're not useless."

"Oh, really? Wanna know how many developments I've made concerning the serum?" she tilted her head at him. "I'll give you a clue. None."

" _That's_  not the same as  _this_." he reached up and undid the buckle on his helmet, pulling it off to run a hand through his hair. "This is a whole 'nuther ballgame."

"You're right. Science! and this are totally different. I'm better at this." she retorted, lifting her chin. " _This_  is something I know."

"You never killed a man before you came to war." he told her, staring without blinking into her eyes. "You want some advice?"

"Not from you, I don't."

"Bad luck. I'm not budging on this, not for anyone, not even you." he swallowed. "I know it hurts you. You think I'm blind to that? Of course I know what you're thinking. So - so I hear there's been whispers that you're getting told to break off with me. And I think that, well I  _know_  that, we've been growin' apart and this - isn't helping, so maybe you should - maybe, find someone who doesn't, constantly hurt you, all the time."

She stared at him very evenly, considering.

"You're an idiot. I want to marry you, Steve." she replied, and he nearly collapsed. "But I also want to punch you, repeatedly. I just want to do what I've been trained -"

"Moxie, no, enough." he cut his hand through the air. "No. You're not coming into any more battles, and I will have you forcibly detained if it comes to it, I swear to all that's good and holy-"

"You'll damn well try, but you're forgetting how good I am with locks, buddy."

"No, I'm not. I will stage men there twenty four hours if I have to."

"Nothing short of you 'n' Bucky are gonna keep me anywhere I don't wanna be." she fixed him with a  _look_. "Because with my serum, I'm a lot stronger than most of the men on base, and you better believe I use it every chance I get."

"You're the most..." he said, trailed off, and narrowed his eyes at her. "Hardheaded, _stubborn,_ dog with a bone..."

"Nice to meet you pot," she said, both brows going up. "I'm kettle."

He bit his cheek. He didn't want to smile, he was not budging, dammit. No,  _no_ , she wasn't smiling at him, she wasn't the cutest dame he'd ever seen, all grubby in too-big fatigues and boots. He wasn't smiling, he was very stern and serious.

"That's something I haven't seen in a while." she nodded to his mouth, where his smile was still wrestling on his face.

"Haven't had much reason." he murmured. "See, I got a dame that thinks she's made of steel to come into war, like killin' men doesn't hurt her the way I know it does."

She studied his face, expression softening.

"Sounds to me like she's just tryin' to help." she offered, equally quiet. "And can't understand why her fella isn't seein' she's good for it."

"Oh, he knows she's good for it." he soothed. "That's the problem. She's too good for it. She's gonna end up with blood on her hands and splatter on her face and then what? How's he gonna save her from that kinda guilt?"

She flicked her eyes down, concentrated very hard on  _not crying_.

"I think it'd help if he was there for her, instead of pushing her away by not letting her be around him like he's doing." she told the mud on his boots. "And I guess, it would help if he shared some of that guilty weight with these big new shoulders he's got in the army..."

"Is that right?" he mused, waiting until she lifted her eyes to him. He smiled, softer than a feather, and opened his arm. "Get over here, already."

She crashed into him, hugged him around the waist tight enough to make him 'oomph!'. He squeezed her back, more carefully, settling his cheek on her head, and it was like coming home. Her smell, her softness, the way she clung to him, it was like being grounded. He never, not ever wanted to let her go.

And suddenly, her being by his side at war made a lot more sense. It made it worth the price.

"I missed you." she said into his chest, and he sighed, heavily, bending his head to kiss her, if not for all the hollering of the group. His teeth were very white, lips very pink, against all the grime and mess on his face. "I love you, but you're so _stupid about girls_ -"

"I know. I'm sorry. I love you too." he kissed her, punctuated by the little reminders. "Baby I love you. I love you. I love you, I love you..."

"Don't make me stay away, anymore." she said, small, girlish, into his chin. She framed his face with her tiny hands, worn and stained and rough on his face. "Don't make me useless, anymore, Steve, please."

He swallowed, kissed each palm, and sighed.

"I knew you'd talk me into it, dammit..." he muttered, and cracked his widest smile since before the serum when she  _squealed_ , and jumped, to wrap arms and legs around him, planting a fat kiss on his mouth. He boosted her up, let her repeatedly kiss his face, jaw, neck, even his ears.

There was a lot of hooting and hollering out of the men.

"Alright, alright." she heard her father growling, giving Bucky a shove. "Knock it off. That's my little girl."

"What is it with you Lewis's pickin' on me?" Bucky said, scrubbing his arm.

"I taught my baby to hit a man when she likes, cuz they probably done somethin' t' deserve it she don't know about." he said. "Can't tell me it ain't true."

"Yeah, sure," Bucky scrubbed his bicep with more vigor, looking at the lovebirds, happily engulfed in each other once more. "But why's it gotta be me for?"

* * *

And the war progressed without heed to how hard it all was.

Howard tried to identify whatever was in her and Bucky's systems; but he could only tell that it was a cheap replication of the serum Steve had running in his own. It wasn't enough to enlarge her muscles but it sped up healing and she claimed to feel faster, but that might've just been because she had trained so hard for so long.

The press absolutely abhorred her, at first.

They took one look at the tiny girl with a gun propped on her shoulder the literal length of her leg, the tits she tried in vain to bind flat, and they let fly.

Women everywhere adopted her hair cut, though, and while most didn't try and enlist, more women went to work in places like Darcy had started out in, making bullets or bandages to help the effort. Some even drew on her beauty marks, some shaped their eyebrows the same.

There were rumors flying about who in the team she was rutting against at night - most of the time they picked Steve, but her clear friendship with Bucky made him a likely suspect too.

When there was a photo of her hugging William around the neck, with the caption that depicted them as lovers, Howard got involved and dragged the magazine through the dirt, which then made him a candidate in the ever spinning wheel of 'Who Is America's Golden Girl Sleeping With Today?'

Her favorite moment in the world, however, was caught on film, and played to millions. It was not just her favorite moment because it changed the way the people saw her, but because it was one of the last, truly happy moments she had.

* * *

They'd just trudged down a mountain, sore and muddy. Darcy had killed another seven people that day, and while it did hurt and drained her, Steve did his best to hold her through the worst of it and it helped her heal internally.

Howard Stark always caused a ruckus - and these days, he was never far from Darcy's side, her ever watchful left hand man - so there were cameras set up at the pick up point, ready to roll. Someone shouted out something and there were questions, people scrambling for autographs, shouting out for Bucky to marry them, Dum Dum to take off his hat, for Darcy to tell them her real name, because all they knew her as was 'Moxie'.

She hung back, slowing to a halt, looking at all the camera flashes and hullabaloo. It was insane. She  _killed_  people. What did these people  _want_  from her?

"Baby." Steve's voice cut through the roar, made everything else go quiet. And in front of everyone, in front of all the cameras and God himself, Steve slid his fingers through her hair, tipped her head back, and gave her the sweetest, most gentle kiss.

Her hands curled in the front of his shirt and the press and fans screamed, screamed, screamed. They were excited. They were happy.

Darcy leaned back to run her thumb over his lower lip.

"I love you." she said. "Steve. I really love you."

"I love you." he replied, and kissed her brow. "Lemme take you home, honey."

"You are my home," she told him, in a moment of other worldly clarity. "Carry me to the truck?"

He rolled his eyes, bent and lifted her in the bridal carry. She twined her fingers in the hair at the back of his head as the crowd surged, tried to get closer to them.

"Showboater." Bucky accused with a wink.

Steve, not even bothering to deny it, sat her on his knee and waved to the people.

* * *

"CAPTAIN AMERICA AND FOXIE MOXIE, FEATURING THE HOWLING COMMANDOS." Bucky said, throwing the cartoon down before them. It was was of those wind-down moments where they took time to sit at a bar and drink a little with a game of cards. "How come we're the add-on, huh?"

"You were featured last month." Darcy said, rather excited, as she sat up to inspect the cover picture. This one actually looked like her, with thick hair in a long braid, stray strands tucked behind her ears. Pointed chin, full red mouth, bright blue eyes. "Oh, but that uniform..."

It wasn't practical.

Neither were the huge breasts floating on top of her chest. They stood back to back, Darcy with a large gun nestled in her cleavage, pointing at the roof. Steve was in full Captain America getup, huge shoulders eclipsing her, with his shield up to hide majority of his body.

The costume they stuck her in wasn't too far a cry out from the one she actually wore - this one, however, decided to show off her incredibly toned arms, with ruby mouth painted into a sweetheart shape, a curled lip for a smile. She had winged liner on, long lashes, and what appeared to be heeled boots that went to the knee. The black trousers were tucked into the boots, apparently not scrunching or awkward at all, while the white tank top was tighter than skin and cut low to display a frill of bra.

Steve sighed, picked it up, and flipped through.

"...Commandos stormed the Nazi base, Captain America at the forefront, his sidekick Bucky-"

"I ain't your sidekick." the man himself muttered, throwing himself bodily into a chair that rocked up on two legs. "You're mine."

"- "We're surrounded, Cap. What do we do?"..."Well boys, it looks like you could use a little...  _help_."

"Why is that suggestive? Why is it in italics?" she scowled.

"Well, you save us." Steve said, turning the pages to see Darcy in all sorts of complex acrobatic maneuvers. "Oh, honey, that's really impressive." he showed her the picture of her kicking straight up into a perfect split, flipping the Nazi to land on his head.

"Yeah, I agree."

She was scowling at the pictures.

"Does it really upset you?" he said.

"Huh?" she hadn't realized she'd been staring until the comic had been flipped shut.

"The pictures." Steve said. "You look... upset."

"Well," she shifted uncomfortably. "I'm a real person. And the fighting - that's fine, they weren't there, and the things I do shouldn't be advertised, but... The physicality of me, that should at least be realistic. Or girls are gonna look at that and think they'll never be good enough."

Steve hummed lowly, looking at the cartoons, tipping his head.

"Your tits never floated like that." Bucky said, leaning forward. "I'd know."

He dodged back before she could smack his arm, then vaulted the table when she darted around it and scrambled up after him, chasing him around the room.

In all honesty, she forgot about the comic, forgot about the pictures and stupid saga with her likeness plastered on it. She forgot why she was chasing Bucky over the base, twittering with stupid laughter, forgot why it was she tackled him to the ground and scrubbed harsh knuckles over his head until he begged for mercy.

But Steve didn't.

* * *

"Hiya, honey." she said, pecking his cheek on the way past, before she realized that - holy Jesus - Steve was drawing again. He had a cartoonized picture of every one of their boys, with an unmistakable resemblance. Her father's portrait was on top of the stack, with his big head and huge arms and arched brow. He had a tattoo of a heart on his bicep that had: 'Mary' written inside of it - her mother's name, if a fake tattoo.

Seeing as she never told Steve that, she assumed it came from him.

But what was really, particularly special, was the picture currently under his pencil. It was of them, back to back - but Darcy was standing on a box to even make his shoulder. She was in her dark fatigues, two handguns in each hand, one pointed straight out and the other at the viewer. She was grinning cheekily, one eye shut in a wink.

"I'm gonna send it in to the papers. They can make somethin' of it, I'm sure." he beamed up at her. "Do you like it?"

She threw herself onto his lap and kissed him breathless.


	22. Chapter 22

"This is a bad idea."

"No it's not." Peggy soothed.

"I feel stupid."

"Hold still."

"Peggy -  _Pegs no_  -"

"You're the only woman within miles I can count on, Lewis."

"You're puttin' me through a lot of pain for a woman who wants my trust."

"Well stop wiggling, and it won't hurt."

"I feel like that's a god damn awful lie."

"It won't hurt as much." the lady amended. "Now, just a touch of... there. You're done. What do you think?"

There was a lengthy pause.

"Like my daddy's gon' have a heart attack."

"I wouldn't worry about your father's heart." the woman mused. "I worry about your poor boy Steve."

"Steve'll be fine..." she gulped. "I think. Peggy, this could be a really bad idea-"

"It's not."

"But-!"

"We're going. Get in the car."

* * *

The bar the boys had chosen to go to was cozy, somehow, despite being fully of war worn soldiers and booze. The lights were low and there was a fire in one corner, some lazy jazz playing just dull enough to be background noise. Smoke was hanging thick in the air, and the wood in the bar matched the wood in the stools, which Darcy liked.

Peggy was in this - fantastic, red get up - looking like a well put together lady. She had eyes on Bucky and she wasn't going home without her man, or at least a little kiss.

Darcy was supposed to be the wingwoman, of sorts, stealing away Steve so that Peggy could get a quiet word alone in.

Except Darcy reckoned that in her dress, she would be more likely to beat 'em off with a stick than get time enough to flirt with Bucky.

When they walked in, the room went totally silent. And for a second, Darcy felt every inch of her earned muscles, pulling hard in the waist of her dress and filling the material of her skirt. She could feel her arms, hard and thick and tough, and her calves, so protruding in her heels.

But then Steve saw her, and his mouth opened real slow, and his eyes (usually so polite and obedient) went over her entire body. She felt real, and pretty, and gave Peggy a sly sidelong look as thanks.

Bucky, very charmingly, dribbled his drink a little.

"Never ceases to amaze." he said, wiping his hand over his chin, getting off his stool.

Steve followed, sort of in a daze, and met up with them somewhere in the middle. When it became apparent that the ladies were rather spoken for, the general murmur filtered back into the bar, and Peggy unlinked her arm from Darcy's.

"Long day today, boys?" she mused.

"Big day tomorrow." Bucky said, staring openly at her mouth. "Dance with me."

"Ask me nicely." she purred.

Darcy smiled, watching Bucky flick his eyes back up to the woman's, wet his lips.

"Would you like to dance, ma'am?" he returned the purr, his much deeper, a touch more dangerous. Peggy, to her credit, just took it in stride, putting her hand out for him to take.

As they lead to the back of the bar, where there was enough room to sway, Darcy glanced down at her gloves, the neat navy dress Peggy had wedged her uncooperative breasts into. All her hair was done real pretty like - in an artful wave on her head, pinned to the side, with long shiny waves going down her shoulders.

She smelled nice, she felt good, her heels only high enough to put her on par with Steve's shoulder.

"You're beautiful. So beautiful, right now..." he gulped. "Not that you otherwise aren't. I just meant that, right now, you're - there's a different kind of, uh, beauty - you're always beautiful, Darcy, always, it's just - a  _surprise_. Not a bad one, it's just I, I can't believe you're dressed up - you usually don't like to, uh - do you want - do you want to do - I mean, dance?"

She ducked her eyes, smiling at the floor, face filling with color. Her mouth - painted on earlier - curled into a wide, naughty smile.

"I'd really like that." she told his tie.

She settled into his arms, leaning her head to his shoulder, swaying gently with one hand curled around his ridiculous waist. He held her other aloft the same way he'd handle a sphere of spun glass, inclining his cheek to her head.

And for one song, they were dancing, two people madly in love and meant to be.

For that one song, they got to be regular, like, without anyone looking at them sideways and wondering why one was with the other. There was no competition - they finally looked like they  _fit_  together. And it shouldn't have made a difference, but it made all the difference in the world to them.

"Mind if I cut in?" Howard said lightly.

He was in a egg-blue shirt and pale gold tie, tucked into slate grey trousers and cream suspenders. He had a particular air about him, all cheeky smiles and glittery eyes, when he took Steve's hand and put it on his shoulder, took up Darcy's spot to dance with the Captain.

She just snorted, and rolled her eyes briefly.

"Considering I was hearing you were gonna tryn' punch me in the face a couple weeks ago," Steve said, very amused by the whole situation. "This is nice."

"For you, maybe. Blondes aren't my type."

"You're a dirty liar." Darcy reminded him. "Cuz I know a couple chorus girls who'd beg to differ."

He sent her a naughty grin, put a little more sway into his dance.

"As nice as this interlude is, I'm actually here to talk about the plan." he looked up at Steve, still smirking, holding Howard's hand while they danced. When a flash bulb went off to remember the moment for life, Darcy laughed at the stunned faces they both pulled.

Jim just smiled, entirely self satisfied.

"Knew it was a mistake to give him a camera." Bucky muttered, swaying over with Peggy held very regally in his arms. She looked like the cat who'd got the cream, giving Howard and Steve's dance a short glance before looking at Darcy with an eyebrow up.

Darcy just shook her head.  _Boys are weird._

"What about the plan?" Steve prodded.

"Well, I was thinking. It's all well and good to come down off a mountain, but what if you had an agent on board when they leave?" he cut Darcy a meaningful look. "Be a bit safer, a lot quieter, and quicker, to boot. It'd give you more time to poke around and see what's goin' on, not to mention -"

"You even know how to dance, Mr. Stark?" Steve mused, raising his brows. "Because I was expecting more, I'm gonna be honest."

"Do you?" the shorter man retorted. "A lil' bit of swayin' ain't my kind of dancing. And don't change the subject so subtly, Captain."

"We've already thought about getting an agent on board from the beginning." Steve informed him. "There's no time to insert them as a mole in HYDRA to earn credentials enough to do the work, never mind thievin' a uniform and puttin' them on board. Stowing away would be overtly risky, and no civilians are even allowed on their base to have wondered in accidentally. We've covered it, Mr. Stark, so while I appreciate the thought, it's already been thought of. Can I dance with my girl now?"

"Dancing." Howard scoffed. "That's what you call that? I'm shocked and appalled. I say we fasten this up, a little."

"Oh, no, no, no." Steve took his hands away from the engineer then, rubbing a hand over his head. "I, uh, can't do no fancy footwork dances."

"You'll learn." Howard clapped him on the shoulder, shouted to the barman: "Alright, Rob, let's change it up a little!"

Darcy ended up tossing both of her shoes, and while Steve couldn't get drunk on his version of the serum, both Bucky and she certainly could. They ended up spinning around like lunatics and attempting to do dances they had precisely no place in attempting, arms thrown around each other, breathless with laughter.

All the while, whenever she tried to drift close to Steve, someone would get in the way, commandeer her into another dance. Sometimes bribing her with a drink, once or twice to get a photo, but it was almost entirely her father, near in tears at how beautiful she was and how proud he was and how much he missed her mother.

The only photo she could actively remember was when Steve and Bucky were posing together, smiling all polite like, and nursing their beers. She ran up and jumped on Bucky's back, putting arms around his shoulders. He bent, laughing, and effectively put her face on par with Steve's, so she took the opportunity to give him a kiss, which is when the flash went off and everything went in a downward spiral.

* * *

The rest of the boys stayed on the mountain, while Steve, Bucky and Darcy rappelled down.

The idea was to go in fast, hit 'em hard, and come out quietly, but like most things in her life, they didn't happen that way.

"BUCKY!"

She shoved Steve's hand in the back of her trousers and hurled herself out of the train, grabbing Bucky's wrist. The wind was horrific, screaming, and Bucky was clawing at her hands.

She could see that he was drawing blood, but it didn't register as pain, more like satisfaction, because if he was hurting her, he was still alive and still fighting. She had both hands wrapped tight around his forearm, a good solid grip on him. It was fine. He was going to be fine.

"YOU GOTTA LET GO OF THE RAIL!" she shouted over the wind. "I GOT YOU!"

There was a split second of hesitation, but he let go, and she felt Steve yank on her waist band. He started to come up, relief evident on his handsome, angular face, his other hand swinging up to clamp around her wrist.

The combined weight on her belt - it gave, leather snapping without sound over the roar of the train and her own terrified monologue that -  _everything will be alright, Buck, hold on!_

She jolted forward and her feet left the ground, and Steve pulled her back. It should've been fine. She had him in both hands, he had her, and Steve was strong, now, strong enough to life both of 'em up with just one arm... but Bucky's leg clipped a rocky part of the mountain, and he tore out of her hands, ripping red trails down her arms.

The noise that left her mouth wasn't human.

She wasn't even aware of fighting against Steve, wasn't even sure what was happening when she was tossed bodily back against the train wall. There was no logic in trying to throw herself out after him, but she was sure, sure that she could go and find him, see him, save him, dive after him, maybe she could just get him, it was gonna be fine, it was gonna be just fine-

Then her father was there and she felt like her head was going to burst open because she looked up at him and said: "Daddy, what'd I do?"

And he wiped his wet face against his sleeve and pulled her up over his shoulder and then she was off the train, head spinning and stomach roiling, hands shaking and arms torn and bloody...

And Bucky...

Beautiful, wise ass Bucky...

Was gone.

* * *

She came into herself in Howard's office.

Her father had a bottle of whiskey, Howard had a nearly empty glass, and Darcy had one between her hands, empty. Her arms were all wrapped up, and she stared at them, blinked, looked around the room.

"Moxie?" Howard said, leaning forward. Her father, sitting across from her, lifted his sleepy head, eyes half lidded. "You with us, babydoll?"

She swallowed, realized she could taste alcohol.

"Steve?" she said, very softly, and her father hid his eyes.

"S'out drinkin'."

She nodded, resigned, then opened her hand for the bottle that he passed to her without question.

"He been gone long?" she said, and promptly guzzled long mouth fulls.

"Hours. S'nearly midnight." her father said, eyeing her. "How long you been drinkin', girly?"

She put the bottle down.

"Long enough for it not to make much of a difference." she said, and blinked slowly. "Since I left mama."

"You what?" her father's voice was usually very intimidating, but he sounded  _exhausted_. His usual growl was more a gruff exhale of air.

"I been drinking since I moved to Brooklyn. Over a year."

Her father did growl, then, and she could feel a smile on her face.

"Only got a little better when I met Steve." she continued. "And... Bucky."

The smile went away.

"You shouldn't been drinkin'." he said, scrubbing the back of his neck. "Your brother's didn't drink until they was at least eighteen."

Howard spat back into his glass.

"Aw, hell, daddy." she muttered, and prepared for the inquisition. "Y' loudmouth."

"How old -?"

"Not enough." her father said, and fixed him with a look. "But you keep that under your hat, or you deal with me. She's my baby, but she's capable."

"Not arguing." Howard said, staring at her. "How old are you, Lewis?"

She swayed as she stood, patting his shoulder, offering back the bottle.

"M'eighteen." she said, and Howard nearly choked on his mustache, asking William a string of questions pertaining to the nature of bad parenting and why he allowed her to fight in the war in the first place.

She couldn't hear the reply, but she heard Howard's more than mollified: "Holy shit." as she walked out of the office and into the night.

Finding Peggy revealed Steve.

She didn't say anything. There wasn't a lot she could have said, and instead of speaking, or looking at her, Steve just opened his arm and beckoned her over with a twitch of his fingers.

She forewent the chair, lifting her leg to sit on his lap, sliding her fingers through his hair to bring his forehead down to her sternum. His wrapped his arms around her waist like she might fly away if he didn't ground her, breathing in her skin like it was his only source of oxygen.

He inhaled and held it; inhaled some more. When he let out, he sobbed, and she held onto him tighter, feeling the shaking in his shoulders. His breath was hot but silent - his arms tightened even more and she turned his head to kiss his brow, his cheek, tasting salt on her lips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"I should've-"

"No."

"But if I could've-!"

"No." she stroked his neck, digging thumbs into the straining tendons. "No, honey, you couldn't."

He didn't answer.

Weather that was because he wouldn't or couldn't, she never really knew. They didn't talk about it.

* * *

She walked into the room in a black skirt, with a black blazer, heels in hand.

Steve was sitting with his knees open, holding his tie. When he heard her, he stood, giving her a very tiny smile, the silk sliding over his fingers. He was in his uniform, but the last couple buttons were undone.

"C'mere." she said quietly, and dropped her shoes on the desk, reaching up so he obliged by bending at the waist. She took the tie and turned his collar up, lifting it over his head to bring it around his neck. She tied the knot lazily, fingers clumsy. "Used to be better at this."

"Tie your brother's ties?"

"All the time. No idea how they're doing now me 'n' ma aren't chasin' 'em." She did the buttons up to his throat, feeling him swallow against her knuckles. She flicked her eyes up to his lips, which were parted.

"Darcy?"

"Yeah honey?"

"Can I kiss you?"

She slid her hands over his shoulders.

"Yeah, honey."

He bracketed her waist with his big warm hands, and kissed her softly.

But she wasn't having it - she shoved him back but didn't let go of the tie and landed on his lap. He braced her half in the air, on her toes, until she rucked up the skirt and knocked his hands away so she could sit on him.

He let out a startled breath, but caught her lip between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth. She pulled the tie loose again, popped open the buttons, dipping her fingers behind the material to feel his piping hot skin.

His hands both slid to squeeze her ass - she jolted, making a noise like purring.

His thumbs ran under the strap between garter and belt, and she dug her nails onto his shoulders.

"Does it - do you -? Feel good?" he muttered, against her lips.

"Good," she said, pulling the shirt aside to put her mouth on his neck. "So good."

"Huh," he said, and one hand went up to brace her back, then slide around to paw at her bra. "You feel so good, sweetheart. So warm. Soft. Wanna touch you all over."

"Please, please do." the next couple of buttons slid out of the holes, and she pulled his shirt apart, tugging his under shirt down and out of her way. The belt that brought the coat in to his ridiculously small waist was undone and she dropped it behind the chair, fumbling down the line to pull the rest open, get her hands on his belly, dragging nails up his sides.

"Like this shirt." he said, licking his lips, as he slowly tugged the tails out of her waistline. His eyes were nearly navy, trained on her face. "Can I?"

She nodded, sitting back, which made for some interesting friction south of the belt.

He pulled the rest of the shirt up, undid a few of the buttons with shaking hands, and pushed the material off her shoulders. His head dipped and he kissed the swell of each breast, before her sternum, her collarbone, hands following where his mouth left a blaze of heat.

"Feels nice." she said into his hair, and he paused on sucking on her neck. "That. That feels real nice."

Steve brought her head down with one hand, the other disappearing beneath the very high line of her skirt. Her touched her hipbone, thumb swiping dangerously close to the lace of her panties. The strap popped open, smacking against his hand, making him startle, but she put her mouth next to his ear.

"Steve," she said, and rocked harder down. "Touch me there. I want you to. Touch me."

He sighed hard against her mouth, bent his head to bite her collar bone, tongue lapping at her fluttering pulse. She tipped her head back, let him have the room to move if her wanted it, one hand dug into his chest, the other down to the belt on his trousers, the rough material grating under her nails.

"Gonna touch you." he promised, and nudged the fabric aside, swallowing loudly as his thumb stroked up the slick. His breath stuttered, and she made a disgustingly eager, high pitched noise that sounded suspiciously like a:

"Yes, yes, yes."

Her hands pressed down and he jerked up, making his fingers slide against her, and she whimpered.

He pulled away but she clamped her hand down on his wrist and nudged him closer - "It's good, it's good, baby, don't stop!" - making his eyes fly open, head tip back as one finger barely pressed into her. He swallowed, loudly, and curled his hand, flicking against a part of her that made her gasp out his name.

"Don't stop," she said urgently. "Steve, please."

"Gonna," he said, nodding, eyes blown nearly black the pupil was so huge. "Jesus, honey. So wet, for me."

"Steve," she put her head down onto his shoulder. His free hand held onto the back of her neck, weighing her down there. "Yes, for you, please, oh, god, please, just-"

There was a very loud inhale, and something shattered. Possibly the moment they were in.

"UH!" Howard said.

"Get out." Steve said through his teeth, but Howard shook his head, mortified, bug eyes looking at the hand under Darcy's skirt, hers pawing at the bulge in Steve's trousers. "I wasn't asking, Stark. Get.  _Out_."

"William's outside." he hissed, shutting the door firmly behind him. He motioned at them both. "You want him to see this?!"

"Turn around!" Darcy squeaked, and looked down at their situation.

Steve's chest was godly. Very distracting.

She fumbled desperately with the strap of her garter, Steve trying to shove his undershirt down into his pants with Darcy sitting on his legs. She had to brace against his shoulders to find her feet while Steve adjusted his southern situation and started doing up his buttons.

"Belt?" he muttered, getting to his feet, while Darcy shoved her shirt into her waistline.

"Got it." she swooped, snatching it off the floor, before pushing it into his hands, going up on her tippy toes to kiss his mouth.

"Got it." he said, lowly, and trapped her head in the crook of his arm, pressing such a kiss on her, her knees went out, letting out a desperate huff against his chin.

"I'm still in the room." Howard told the wall.

Steve leaned back, cheeky, doing up the rest of his buttons, while Darcy wrapped her arms around him to do the belt at his waist. One of Steve's hands was shiny, and it made her mouth dry.

When he saw her looking, he licked his lips, then stuck them in his mouth.

She could literally see his pupil expanding, see his eyes flick to her mouth. He took his fingers out, touched the back of her head, and she shot up on the balls of her feet to suck on his lip.

He stuck his tongue in her mouth, and Howard cleared his throat.

"How old are you two again?"

"Eighteen." she muttered.

"Jesus." Howard said, and huffed. "You decent? Can I open the door?"

"One sec." Steve said, and grabbing her ass, hauling her closer, bringing her onto the balls of her feet to kiss her thoroughly. She mewled, and Howard scoffed.

"Alright, alright! That's it. This door is getting opened."

They sprang apart and sorted out themselves, grinning like idiots the entire time. Somehow, getting hot and heavy before Bucky's service made it just a little easier to bare, like somehow they were going to make the fallen Commando proud by finally taking their physical relationship steps.


	23. Chapter 23

There wasn't a lot of pain. Just noise.

She heard it crunch through her epidermis and the layer of her skull, felt it glance through the top of her head with a buzz. It made her feel like shooing it away, but it was in a fraction of a second, and also, very much  _inside her head_.

She felt the bullet punch through the back of her head and then the world shifted and she was falling...

Falling...

* * *

Dark.

Dull.

And that wasn't even because she'd been shot in the brain.

Just because Steve had gone on some mission to rid the world of Schmit in the end, and he had been put down in a plane, in the ice, and he'd never come home.

So while he'd been waiting on her to wake up, he'd got himself killed.

Dark.

Dull.

Useless.

* * *

It was gathering dust, possibly more and more the longer she stared at it. She knew that she had to do it fast, had to be quick about it. The small timer she rigged up so so simple in design, so easy, that as she took off her heels and unbuttoned her shirt, she was left wondering why it'd never occurred to her before to try.

She slid her undershirt off and folded it neatly, tucked her bra on top with only a second's hesitation. Howard would know where she was, and what she had done, and he would come for her, so modesty was something she kept in mind, despite the fact that she was very far underground and currently alone.

 _How did I get here?_  she looked around, realized she actually couldn't remember coming here. She couldn't remember figuring out where he'd hid the machine. Couldn't remember talking to Howard about it, couldn't remember anything but him telling her it wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair...

She didn't think it was unfair. How could it be?

All she knew was that while the knock off serum in her blood made her heal, it had never healed her heart. And she felt like a weakling, she felt smaller than she was, and she hated it.

All her life, Darcy 'Moxie' Lewis had fought against the grain.

She'd be reborn with something else. Something totally her own decision. She'd already signed the papers. She left her dog tags on the bra, placed the timer around the dial, and flicked the switch to  _'On_ '.

* * *

Howard got there, knowing, calculating, preparing himself.

Her chances weren't good. The serum he'd managed to extract from her blood had failed under the same tests where Steve's had excelled. He expected to find her dead, her beautiful face peaceful in long sleep, in the long forgotten machine that had spat out the world's first super solider.

What he found instead were footprints in the dust, a timer set on the dial, and a piece of paper that simply said:

" _Howie,_

_I'm sorry._

_Darcy."_


	24. Chapter 24

AFTER CREDITS SCENE

* * *

Phil Coulson was  _very excited_.

He was bouncing on his heels, humming a faint song from before his youth about a spangled man with a plan. In his dossier, he'd clipped his mint condition cards together, ready and waiting.

Despite being a fully operational field operative and full time handler, he was escorting several scientists and biologists out to the uncovered wreckage in the middle of a snowy landscape he'd rather never see again. He liked summer, liked sand, not snow.

He peered at the shadows in the ice. One laid down, one vertical, reaching. He put a gloved hand to the wall of solid ice, watched as scientists cut through it with heat beams, warming to them slowly.

The reach of the smaller was significantly more emotional than he thought. Their love, of course, was detailed in all the comics, in all the movie adaptions, in every TV series of documentary it was universally agreed that Lieutenant Mox and Captain Rogers were a true and honest kind of love.

_It was weird,_ he thought as they cut closer to her feet.  _That she took up with Howard Stark when the Captain went missing, if she loved him so much._

It was documented through SHIELD files, how hard Stark had looked for the fallen hero, but also heavily implied by the press and subsequent photos of Stark taking her out on the town, always dressed impeccably, her red lips and arched brow a signature look that swept across the nation and lingered in the day's age.

Phil couldn't believe it, when the ice cracked like an egg and he saw, first hand, her fingers thaw and curl into a half fist. When they touched her fingers she had a temperature just a little under what they themselves had.

It became significantly more urgent, then, to get them both out of the ice.

It was a dream. They were alive? But how? How did Lieutenant Mox end up with the same temperature as Captain America? How could it be true, or plausible?

Phil sent a quick text to Fury.

_What happened to the machine used to create Captain America?_

He only waited half a second.

_Howard Stark took it back for safekeeping, but it was destroyed a number of years ago._

Then:

_Why?_

Phil didn't answer. Fury would know soon enough. He watched them thaw through Mox's position, watching her body loosen and flop uselessly against the ice. She was, to all appearances, dead, but her temperature was regulated - and she had a pulse.

They thawed through the rest of Captain America, and found him in a similar condition. Then they were rushed onto the plane, kept thawing and thawing, until monitors recorded the first steady beats of their hearts, the first breaths they exhaled.

Moxie had a thermal suit removed and found a heating device strapped to the wrist that had been held out to her Captain. She had goggles and a breathing apparatus on that had long since depleted of oxygen, with twin hand guns strapped under the parachute on her back.

"Ever seen this design?" Phil muttered, already on the line to ballistics in France, the best of the best, to whom he had a favor owed.

"Off the record?" he said with a heavy sigh. "They look original. The barrel is long and too wide, the handle fitted for a smaller hand. The pictures of the bullets you sent me look almost old, but different, and the weapon itself is entirely of it's own. I've never seen a thing like that in all my years."

Phil watched them warm up, watching the color come back into their faces. Back at SHIELD, he didn't ask so much as out rightly demand that they be kept together for the duration of their stay.

He watched them be maneuvered into clothes befitting of their own era, and he settled back to watch the monitors.

* * *

Steve's eyes opened slowly. There was white noise, a steady blur in his eyes. The sun. He remembered being cold, and wet, and dark, so it was quite the change. He sat, saw the foot of the other bed, and shot out of his own.

" _Darcy_." he breathed, and went to her bedside, pressing his palms to her cheeks.

Her lashes fluttered, nose scrunched.

"S'not time t' get up." she muttered.

"Darcy, baby." he whispered, and leaned half over her. "What happened? What are you doing here? Are you hurt?"

"Breath  _smells_." she cracked open one bright eye. For a second, Steve could've sworn it was glowing, that the color had been incandescent. Then the other opened, and her lower lip popped from the top, and her hands went up to his face. "Steve?"

"Darcy." he said, quite evenly. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

"Never better, baby."

"Good."

He hoisted her out of the covers, pulling her out of the bed completely, one arm bracing her bum, the other holding her head to his shoulder while he took his time to breathe her in, hold her tight. She wrapped arms and knees around him, rubbing her face against his shoulder, then reached up and kissed the hinge of his jaw

"Hi." she mouthed against his face.

He turned to press a kiss to her lips.

"Hi." he murmured, and kissed the tip of her nose. "Missed you."

"I think I missed you more." she snuggled under his chin. He felt her tears bleeding through his shirt. "Did we die?"

"If this is heaven, I can get used to it." he said, and looked around. "But I don't particularly think we are going to be confined in a hospital room for the rest of our existence, somehow."

"And I gotta headache that just won't quit." she sighed, wiped her cheeks on his shirt, and looked around without making any effort to remove her face from his person. He didn't mind. "Looks a bit too cozy to be the Interventions Office. Might be Logistics, but that doesn't make any sense, they don't do things like this..."

"Who?" he muttered, but there was a knock on the door and a brunette nurse walked in, smiling at the sight of them. Steve didn't let her go and she didn't make a pretense of politeness, just crossed her legs behind his back, hooking ankles together.

"Good morning," she said kindly. "Glad to see you two awake. We've been-"

Steve was listening to the radio now. Darcy was just eyeballing the nurse over his arm, studying the cut of her bra, and the length of her hair.

"Honey?" she mused, rubbing her cheek up to kiss his jaw again.

"I know." he said, and glared at the nurse. "Where are we?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"What year is it?" he narrowed his eyes.

"It was 1950 when I last checked." Darcy muttered, and she felt him tense.

"Now, Captain Rogers," the nurse said, and her hand reached slowly at the small of her back. "We don't want any trouble, we just thought it'd be easier if you-"

Darcy moved like liquid, sliding over Steve's arm and pouncing on the woman. She back flipped off of her, which made her head bounce off the door frame, while Steve decided it'd be a good idea to burst through the wall and put his arm back through it for her.

She was staring at the blood smeared on the wall from her assault. It had been a long time since she saw blood spilt.

"Darce." Steve said, and she took his hand so he could sling her over his shoulder.

"I can run, you know." she grumped, as he took off in a bolt.

"I know you can baby, but-"

"Steve, seriously-" she slid through his grip, and while he faltered to pick her up, twisted through his knees and took off. "Come on, keep up!"

He caught up to her in seconds, then put in a bit of effort and bashed through a wall, while she dove through it to skid on her socks to bump into his side. Oops.

People were every where, staring, and why wouldn't they? Darcy gave a prolonged stare at a woman's shoes before Steve had hold of her hand and they were running again, coming out into a busy street, swarmed by cars, purring, humming, backfiring - all the screens, all the colors, there was a guy in his underwear with a guitar slung around his shoulder.

They were back to back, and Darcy still felt small, but even more small when slick black cars pulled up out of no where, surrounding them. She saw the emblem - her emblem - and put her arm back around Steve's waist, holding onto him. His hand mirrored hers, stretching down to rest against her stomach.

"Shit." she muttered out the side of her mouth. She looked around as a man in a trench coat and eye patch approached them. "I don't know who the hell he is, but he looks like he's in charge."

"Captain." he said, and nodded. "Lieutenant."

She gave him a level stare, ignoring the pound of Steve's heart against her shoulder.

"I'm Director Nick Fury. You've been - decommissioned - for a long time." he fixed his eye on them. "Let's talk somewhere more private."

"Where's Howard Stark?" she bit back, lifting her chin. "I'm not goin' anywhere until Howard Stark shows his godawful mug and-"

"Howard Stark is dead." the director said, cutting her short. She froze, her hand clawing on Steve's shirt. "Has been for a number of years. Car accident." he said, and inclined his head to her.

"My condolences."

"Margret Carter." she demanded, her voice sounding far away. "Where is she?"

"Retired." he lifted both hands to them. "Let's talk some where privately. You two have a lot of catching up to do."

"Evidently." she said sharply, and managed to unwind her arm from Steve only to take his satisfyingly hot hand. "Because the Peggy Carter I knew wouldn't retire from her job for no man."

"Not a man." he shrugged. "Her kids."

Darcy winced. She'd known that, right? Known Peggy had kids. She'd just been... busy.

Steve looked down at her, then up at the mono-eyed man, before leaning his head to her ear.

"We got it, baby." he murmured.

"I know." she replied, and gave him a quick kiss on the chin before returning her look to Fury. "Lead on, Director."

* * *

THE END

* * *

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.
> 
> 1) I had wonderful cover art made by LaLashivers (FF dot net) or Usedkarma on Tumblr, check her out! (Look, I would've posted it here, but technology and I just don't get along. You should've seen me try to figure out how to post a story initially. But seriously, the cover art is glorious, I love it so much, and you will too!)
> 
> 2) The sequel is in the works, and it will be following the story line of Thor and the Avengers. The third installment will be based on CA:WS, but I haven't even started writing that one and I can't say for sure weather it will be totally cannon compliant. Probably not, considering how heavy Darcy's involvement will be, and how the second story will progress to develop matters...
> 
> 3) I hope you enjoyed this! It's just a bit of fun, been sitting in my computer collecting cyber dust. It's mostly been a pleasure to get it up and running, and connecting with people like this. 
> 
> 4) I was going to leave it at the last chapter, all five hundred words of abrupt ending. But that wouldn't be very Marvel of me, would it? You can thank every single person who left a comment, because without them I would've just quietly removed the story and wallowed in misery. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you have a great day, and I'm hoping the sequel won't take so long so we can continue on Darcy's journey together. ;)
> 
> All my love,  
> Aude. x


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